


Eia au, eia 'oe

by orphan_account



Category: Lilo & Stitch (2002), Supernatural
Genre: Case Fic, Crossover, Crossover: Lilo and Stitch, Drowning, Hawai'ian Mythology, M/M, R&R, Shipping meta, They bang in this fic, Vacation, literally tossed smut in at the end for no reason
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-22
Updated: 2014-02-22
Packaged: 2018-01-10 08:59:58
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 29,683
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1157723
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When a string of spontaneous, on-land drownings bring Sam, Dean and Castiel to the island of Kaua’i, they grapple with mermaids, local pagans and some ancient, slightly bitchy mana.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Eia au, eia 'oe

**Author's Note:**

> _Eia au, eia 'oe_ means _Here I am, Here you are_. 
> 
> There has been effort put into integrating as much well-researched hawai'ian mythology into this story, however it has been adapted for the supernatural setting. Supernatural more or less mangles any mythology it gets its hands on, so if there have been any changes that are considered offensive, please leave me a comment so we can discuss it and I can make necessary changes.

The spaghetti was cold, the wine was a decidedly inferior vintage – and white too – not to mention the candles smelt like sticky vanilla. Frankly, the bolognaise was about the only thing halfway decent about this meal, that was if Nadine wasn’t having Lucas' attempt at homecooking. It’s not so much the attempt that’s nice, it’s that it was Lucas and he'd tried to make her favourite food, and okay it’s Lucas. It’s her best friend in the entire world, and he kissed her eagerly when he rescued the slightly burnt garlic bread, and she’s just glad to be with him.

Which is making the endless apologies a bit difficult,

“Sorry,” He grinned, setting the garlic bread on the table. “Sorry,” He smiled. Poured the wine. “It’s all we’ve got,” He’s indicating her plate nervously. “Is it alright?” Offers her the salt. “Need more salt?”

“Lucas,” She laughed. “It’s fine, sit, eat, relax.”

“I just want it to be perfect,” He looked at her shyly over the table. Takes a sip of wine for fortitude.

“It is perfect,” Nadine reassured, and then watched Lucas' expression twist as he spluttered on the wine. “Hey you okay?” He continued to splutter. Nadine leaned forward to slap him on the back, but the coughs of liquid were coming fast now, and she froze.

There was no way he’d drunk that much wine.

“Luc?”

It’s water, coughing and pouring from Lucas' mouth as Lucas scraped his chair back. Nadine’s quickly on her feet as Lucas fell to the floor, knocking his chair over. She hovered over him, as he choked on another sputter of water. Quickly, she pressed down on his diaphragm, not sure exactly what to do, where the water was coming from. 

It came in a quicker spout from his mouth now, but no matter how much came out, there seemed to be more and more coming. Spilling out in wet hacks that grew weaker and weaker. Nadine was panicked, frantically yelling as Lucas faded away. Finally, she crawled away from him, sobbing as Lucas' head lolled against the floor, water still dripping from his lips.

 

* * *

“So get this,” Sam set the stack of folders down under Dean’s nose, sweeping the food wrappers away to make room. “There’s been this series of people drowning,” Sam paused for effect. “On-land.” 

They’d been in the middle of tidying up a relatively simple ghost case. The spirit had been picked up somewhat before it had even happened – preventative measures. Sure, it’d turned up ghoulishly as they were looking for the bones, but they’d gotten most of the way through the routine salt-and-burn before the ghost had even manifested.

Dean had been almost looking forward to quitting the hunt roadtrip to detour back to the bunker. They’d been doing preventative cases for a week, and this was the last one, and okay he missed his memory foam and the sweet coffee machine they had. Nevertheless, Sam was waiting across the table from him, a case on the brain, so Dean reached out to pick up the top folder. 

“People drown in-land all the time, Sam,” Dean scanned the folder, eying the seven victims thoughtfully. “What’s special with these?” 

“Not in-land,” Sam rolled his eyes. “On-land, these people drowned nowhere near water.”

 Dean flipped through the folder, rubbing his chin thoughtfully. “So this is what,” The autopsies confirmed it – all victims died up to their ears with sea water. Saline content placed it as pacific water too. “Some person drowns at sea and is back from their watery grave?”

“Maybe,” Sam indicated the location on the page Dean was reading. “None of the victims died anywhere near each other. Or the pacific,” Sam tapped the saline content notes.

“Not impossible for ghosts to haunt a group of people,” Dean hummed. “No relation between the victims. Think it’s a beastie?”

“Might be,” Sam shrugged. “Might be a not so obvious connection as well,” He turned his laptop towards Dean. “The latest victim – Lucas Covington?” Dean flipped through the folder again, until it came back to Lucas Covington. Looked like a nice young man too. Dark hair, bright blue eyes, downright scruffy - in a sweet way - to be honest he seemed sweet over-all. “His wake is this Friday, just a bit south of here.”

“Alright,” Dean leaned back in his chair. “Rock up, take statements,” Sam nodded. “And in the meantime, go speak to the other families.”

* * *

Dean pulled the dog collar (as he liked to call it) at his throat twitchily, and Sam elbowed Dean, as the door swung open to reveal a young woman with a miserable expression. Her dirty blonde hair was looking a touch dirtier than perhaps it should have been, but it was still combed meticulously and hanging limply over her shoulder, contrasting the black dress she was wearing. Her green eyes swept up over the brothers, taking in the religious get-up, and frowned.

“Lucas was an atheist, I don’t think-” But an older man pushed past the girl gently, taking Dean’s hand and squeezing it firmly.

“Fathers,” He greeted and the woman edged back in to the house. “Sorry, don’t mind Nadine there,” He gestured for them to come into the house. “I’m Ted,” He offered his hand to Sam as the brothers entered the house. “We spoke on the phone?”

“Yes,” Sam jumped into action, as Dean purposefully headed after the girl. There was a slight glint of exasperation in his eyes – of course Dean was going to interview the grieving girl – but it quickly passed. He followed Ted into the kitchen. “My apologies for the loss of your son, I’m sure it came as-”

Ted held a couple of mugs up. “Coffee? Tea?”

“Black coffee for both of us, if you could?” Ted turned his attention towards the coffee machine that was nestled quietly in the corner of the kitchen. “I’m sure it came as quite a shock for your whole family.”

“He had such a bright future ahead of him,” Ted nodded sadly. “His sister is quite beside herself; they were very close, you see.”

“Nadine,” Sam nodded.

“Oh no,” Ted pointed out a dark haired girl sniffling by the dining room table. “Layla, by the table,” Sam studied her for a moment. “Nadine was Lucas’ friend from college.”

Nadine for all her miserable expression, was keeping her expression as even as possible, Dean noted. The girl was clearly tense, and unwilling to show any inch of emotion. Her shoulders were raised, back straight, and she kept the bookcase behind her at all times.

Dean approached, carefully, and smiled faintly when her gaze snapped to him. She looked less than pleased to see him smile, or see him at all given her earlier reaction. Regardless, a frown spread over her face, thin and slight but definitely there.

“Sorry, miss,” Dean started apologetically, and offered her his hand to shake. She took it politely, but her grip was angry and heated. Practically scalded himself on her well-mannered fury. “I feel like we’ve gotten off on the wrong foot.”

“Luc wasn’t religious,” Nadine stated furiously, trying to keep her face straight as she took her hand back. “It’s his family that are so damn particular,” She glared at him. “You should speak to them, pastor.”

“I’m not here to preach to you,” Dean corrected firmly. “Just to talk.” He jerked his head towards the family. “You’re not too friendly with them.”

“They don’t like me,” Nadine shifted to her backfoot. “It sort of makes for an uncomfortable dynamic.”

“You and Lucas were together, huh?” Dean guessed, and Nadine’s unrestrained half-choke confirmed it. “My condolences, I understand - it can be hard…”

“Don’t tell them - the family - they didn’t even know,” Nadine asked quickly, shoving her grief away from her so bodily, Dean could practically feel it go past. “We only got together just last week,” She bit her lip. “On the holiday.”

“Holiday?” Dean blinked.

“In Kauai,” Nadine paused. “Um, Kaua’i sorry, I’m not good with pronounciation.” 

“Hawai’i, ‘course,” Dean half-muttered. Every single one of the victims had been to the island of Kaua’i in the weeks surrounding their death. It was the clear connection.

“It was just so romantic,” Nadine mumbled haplessly. “I mean, I’ve known Luc for about four, five years now, don’t know how we went so long as friends, it just felt right,” She shrugged, the expression minimal. “I don’t know how to explain it – it’s such a perfect place, and it felt so right – like I was coming home at last. To think - if I'd known he was, gonna, you know,” She mumbled. "I'd have jumped him years ago."

“At least you had the time you had,” Dean soothed. “I don’t suppose he picked up a keepsake from the holiday?”

“Well, yes actually,” Nadine nodded at the mantelpiece, where a dark rock was perched towards the edge. Again, Dean had half-expected this; all the victims had picked up some volcanic rock on their away trips. “I just can’t stand that he’s gone-” Nadine's voice abruptly throttled on her next word. She pressed her hands over her eyes to hide what were probably tears.

Dean turned back to the girl, startled, and patted her shoulder comfortingly, but Nadine pushed away from him.

“I’m so sorry,” She stuttered. “I can’t be so upset.”

“You loved him,” Dean scowled. “Don’t let a judgmental family tell you what you can or can’t grieve,” Dean pulled the girl by the shoulder, until he had his arm wrapped around her. “S’better out than in, alright.”

Nadine hiccoughed through what were definitely tears, body language still clinched right up. It was awkward, but the girl was clearly in distress, so Dean just patted her arm, and let the girl have a moment to herself. Even when Sam had walked past, and met Dean’s eyes curiously, waggling his brows meaningfully, Dean had glanced at the girl meaningfully as well.

By the time Nadine had seemed to be on an even keel again, Sam was jumpy with his efforts to pry his brother from the house. As they made their way back to the impala, it became clear why, Sam related what he'd been eager to share with Dean.

“Another Kaua’i tourist,” Sam said clearly. “Another volcano rock.”

“Yeah, Nadine told me,” Dean rolled his eyes. “The poor girl was dating him when he died – saw the whole thing too – couldn’t have let her get some tears in, huh?”

“Nadine was dating Lucas?” Sam’s eyebrows shot up.

“What? That grief seemed platonic to you?” Dean snorted.

“Oh no, not that,” Sam shifted in his spot. “The family didn’t seem to care much for her.”

“Yeah, she also said that,” Dean frowned. “Right assholes, didn’t even want her at the wake. She's a sweet girl, knew the vic for years, said it was like coming home,” Dean shook his head. "Family is a bag of dicks though; religious nutjobs."

Sam clicked his tongue. “Harsh,” There was a respectful pause, before Sam twisted in his seat towards Dean. “Seems like we’re going to Hawai’i though.”

“Sunny beaches, cocktails, bikinis-”

“In your size?” Sam grinned, and Dean glowered at his brother. “Kidding, kidding, but yeah definitely going to be cool.”

“Except for the hunt,” Dean shrugged. “We should take some time off once we drag this ghost or beast or whatever to rest.”

“Yeah, that sounds good,” Sam peered at Dean. “You going to be alright?”

“With what?” Dean toyed with the player, until Elvis Presley’s All Shook Up came through the impala's speakers.

“Planes,” Sam said as though it was obvious.

“Oh definitely not,” Dean grinned. “That’s why we’re flying Angel Airlines, Captain Castiel piloting us all the way to our vacation spot.”

“Or you can deal with a short plane flight,” Sam frowned. “Cass isn’t a private jet.”

“He doesn’t mind,” Dean shrugged. “Besides, he can vacation too. Sun his wings out on the hot sand, bird bath in the ocean, sit quietly. You know,” Dean smirked at Sam. “Angel stuff.”

“I’m pretty sure he does mind,” Sam said firmly. “But would be nice for us all to get together,” Sam tipped his head. “Alright, get Cass to come over.”

“Again, you can pray him off his cloud yourself,” Dean rolled his eyes. “Fine," He thought for a moment, before beginning the prayer, "O Castiel of the bountiful Thursday, show your stubbled face and holier-than-thou stare to us, as we drive down the interstate at approx-”

“Hello Dean,” Castiel sounded like he definitely minded the whole matter.

“Hey yourself,” Dean shot a grin to the backseat. “We need a lift to Hawai’i.”

Castiel frowned. “You called me for that?”

“Yeah, Dean, did you?” Sam snarked traitorously, and Dean threw a dagger glare towards his brother.

“Well, I was hoping you’d stick around, enjoy the sights, help us gank a drowning monster,” Dean replied breezily.

“Drowning monster?” Castiel narrowed his eyes thoughtfully.

“We’re trailing something that’s causing on-land drownings.”

“On-land, not in-land,” Dean clarified. “They die with their lungs full of random water, rest of them dry.”

“Interesting,” Castiel replied mildly. “And Hawai’i?”

“Kaua’i, actually.” Sam cleared up. “The only connection between the victims is they all visited Kaua’i and brought back some pumice.”

“I see,” Castiel nodded. “I’m afraid I can’t stick around,” The angel said _stick around_ a little uncomfortably, the words sticking out of his vocabulary like a sore thumb. “After I fly you there, I have matters to attend to-”

“Back home, huh?” Dean nodded thoughtfully, his grin fading.

“Further issues to my taking leadership of Heaven,” Castiel explained stiffly.

“Namely that you want nothing to do with it,” Dean glanced at his backview mirror, meeting Castiel’s eyes. “They still pushing you for that?”

“They seem to think it would be a good idea,” Castiel frowned. “Given my history thus far, I’m surprised,” He sighed, magnanimously, full of worries that Dean apparently couldn’t even imagine. “If I am away from Heaven for too long before this matter is sorted, conflict may erupt between the factions.”

“So you’ll fly us, but won’t hang out,” Dean frowned. “No, it’s cool, we’ll catch up, you know, sometime.”

“Sometime,” Castiel agreed, and then directed his attention towards the car. “You wish to bring the impala with you?”

“Definitely,” Dean’s frown vanished easily, but quickly returned at the familiar wrenching feeling pulling at his intestines. Like his gut was being squeezed out through his belly button - Charlie had related it was not dissimilar to period cramps, and that had been the last period joke Dean had cracked in his life. Still, better than a few hours stuck in a sardine tin of a plane.

* * *

As soon as Castiel had landed, his expression had turned from sour to rancid within a matter of seconds, and Dean quickly twisted towards the angel. However, Castiel was already moving. He pushed the car door open, and left the car with a slam of the door.

Dean yanked the driver side door open, hopping out of the car and clicking the door shut behind him, “What’s up?” He made his way round towards Castiel.

“I’m stuck,” Castiel said the word stickily, personally offended by whatever was keeping him grounded. “My wings are bound.”

“How?” Sam had joined them outside the car, and both brothers pulled their collars loose at the same time. They glanced around for prying eyes and finding there were none, pulled the Impala's trunk open. Economically, they began changing by the impala, whilst Castiel poked and prodded at something in the undergrowth.

“A binding spell,” Castiel stated as though it was obvious and still incredibly annoying. He eyed Sam thoughtfully, and Sam paused as he buttoned up his suit jacket. “You are not affected.”

“So it’s angel focused-” Dean began, but Castiel interrupted, gaze steely.

“I said Sam was unaffected," Castiel's metallic gaze raked over Dean like it was molten, and Dean frowned at the sweeping movement of Castiel's attention. It was definitely lingering longer on him than it had on Sam, "Dean, you however, are also bound.”

“I don’t even have wings,” Dean scowled, pulling the shirt over his head, and covering his chest. He glared until Castiel's gaze eventually moved on. “How can I be bound?” He nodded towards Castiel’s trenchcoat. “Better take that off, you look too warm.”

“Your soul is bound to this island as my grace is,” Castiel frowned. “For you it would manifest as the urge to never leave,” He narrowed his eyes at Dean. “I don’t experience temperature as-“

“Yes, but I feel hot just looking at you,” Dean shifted into cheap dress shoes, digging his feet down to get his heel in the shoes. “So I should be feeling like putting roots down, huh.”

Dean did feel pretty comfy, that was true, but he had a job to do. He was tempted to assume it was that then, but Castiel seemed to be examining his surroundings with interest. As though there was something shimmery to their entire surroundings, and whatever it was happened to be sticking all through Dean, getting him a bit too cozy with the island, and there it was, a slight itch in his chest, like he was returning. Some prearranged appointment to keep that he was only most of the way to.

“So whose doing it?” Sam asked. “Same thing that’s behind the drownings?”

“Possibly,” Castiel sniffed the impala briefly, before pulling away. “The entire island is permeated with the spell – there are dozens of people bound here.”

“So, it’s what, a welcome to Kaua’i thing?” Dean scuffed his feet on the ground. “Never let me go, you’re here to stay and if you get out I’ll drown your sorry ass?”

“Perhaps, but the spell is hot in nature, it seems unlikely,” Castiel repeated, already setting pace along the dirt track. “This is incredibly inconvenient – I have to leave.”

“Where are you going?” Dean grabbed Castiel by the shoulder, and the angel glanced back irritably.

“I am following the spell,” Castiel said as though it was obvious. “Its source is this way." 

“Well that would have been helpful to know,” Dean looked down the hill towards the nearby buildings. “Sam you want to check out the locals for that volcanic stuff, while Cass and I go check out our new ball and chain?”

“Text before you get yourselves in trouble,” Sam waggled his fingers, until Dean tossed the keys his way.

“Look after her!” Dean called off, as he followed Castiel towards the unmistakable smell of the ocean. The entire island was rinsed in the tang of salt – a comforting smell for Dean – but it was definitely getting stronger, as Dean picked through the undergrowth behind Castiel.

* * *

Sam opened the door to the shop – Kukhkini’s Tiki Store – with a creak and the jangle of a bell. A short, older man perked up by the register, and a young man with damp hair shifted away from the counter with a cheery smile.

“Aloha awakea,” He greeted Sam, before darting through to what was presumably the back. Sam got the distinct impression tourist season had just ended, by the bright look he was being given, and also that his suit was looking out of place. He headed over to a nearby clothing rack, and began picking out some sturdy, if colourful shirts for all three of them.

By the time he’d picked out the most offensively bright shirt (ostensibly, for Dean) the young man had wandered back into the store. Sam inspected the volcanic rocks and sculptures on a nearby shelf, before grabbing a few that resembled the stones he’d seen at the victim’s houses. He brought the entire lot over to the counter, and smiled at both men.

“Better watch out for Pele, eh?” The young man laughed brightly when he saw the rocks. “She doesn’t like it when people take her rocks away from the island. She’ll lay a curse on you.”

“Kulikuli,” The older man slapped his hands together with a loud clap, and the younger man jumped. “Don’t mislead him, Kolehe.”

“Sorry,” The young man – Kolehe – smiled sheepishly at Sam. “It’s just a story you tell tourists you know.”

“Oh, no problem,” Sam smiled uncertainly. “Thanks Kolehe.”

“Oh!” Kolehe’s eyes widened and he gave a laugh that came quick like a bark.

“Kulikuli?” Sam tried hastily.

“I’m David,” David adjusted his hair, laughing anew. “Kulikuli is uh – shut up, Kolehe is a, a uh- rascal.”

“Right one he was being too,” The old man said firmly. “Gave him the wrong idea about Pele,” He passed the rocks over to Sam. “Don’t you mind David, Pele doesn’t care one way or the other what you do with her rocks,” He folded Sam’s fingers over the stones. “Don’t let anybody tell you otherwise.”

* * *

Walking through the tropical undergrowth in a suit was rapidly becoming a bad idea. A terrible idea. Possibly the worst idea, but Dean soldiered on, following Castiel’s back.

“How far is it Cass?” Dean scowled. “Hawai’i, didn’t exactly make me think about long sticky – humid – walks.”

“Not far,” Castiel assured Dean, pushing a frond back. “Ah,” Dean stumbled to Castiel’s shoulder, peering past him, and grabbing a hand to Castiel’s shoulder for balance.

The house was raised off the ground, two stories, and looked a little beat around the edges. Not a bad looking house at that, but definitely lived-in, and terribly human. The paint peeled at the edges, but not in the way that set Dean’s teeth on edge. It just seemed homely, literally, just a home, it felt like a home more than anything else.

Dean shrugged the thought off – the soft feeling of landing somewhere good was definitely a part of the spell.

They stomped up the staircase towards the front door where the charmingly dulcet tones of Heartbreak Hotel filtered through the air. Monsters, or whomever lived here certainly had good taste. Surprisingly, at the top of the stairs, a gorgeous – or at least with a gorgeous body, Dean reflected – woman had her upper torso through the dog flap.

“Lilo, I don’t have time for this, I have work in a few hours,” The woman was yelling loudly, and Dean and Castiel looked over her at each other. “Oh you are so finished when I get in there,” There was the clink of a nail falling on the floor. “Ohh, I’m going to stuff you in the blender, bake you into a pie and-”

Dean hooked his foot into the woman’s and pulled her out. Her face was gorgeous too at that. The hammer in her hands decidedly not.

“Aue!” She got to her feet, and dropped the hammer after a nervous glance at it. Probably not a monster given she was holding a melee weapon, and also dropped it. Dean was in the process of reaching for his FBI badge when Nani interrupted him, “You must be the social worker… workers!” She stuck her hand out towards Dean. “I’m… Nani.”

Castiel stepped towards the door, brushing past the proffered hand and Dean hovered back, pausing to shake Nani’s hand, “Yes,” Dean grinned at Nani. “That’s us. Social workers. I’m,” Dean quickly flicked through a list of possible names, settling idly on, “Sanders. This is my colleague-”

“Stitch,” Castiel answered quickly, and Nani blinked.

“Stitch. That’s a stra-”

“A strange name,” Dean laughed nervously. “Yes, we know.”

“Uh, the door is…” Nani trailed off, and Castiel pulled on the door handle. There was the ping of a dozen nails being yanked loose in one go. “Open.”

Dean stepped into the house, trying to summon up the nervy, collected feeling that best suited hunting. All he could find was a cool serenity – really that soothing feeling was beginning to really pissing him off. Still trying to gather his wits, Dean eyed the front room of the house. By now it was clear that this house was definitely lived in, the entrance room was roomy, with books spread across the floor. Most interestingly - given they were social workers - was a small girl who was pulling the needle off her record playing. The Elvis fell deadly silent, as she stared at them curiously, from her spot standing in the middle of the room.

“Sorry, I would have tidied up,” Nani apologized. “I, we, I wasn’t expecting you,” She smiled a little too brightly, and Dean raised an eyebrow in response. “So soon!” Nani blurted out.

The little girl plopped down on the floor, and pulled a nearby pickle jar towards her. Castiel stepped towards, and hunkered down next to her. Obviously whatever had brought Castiel here like a bloodhound was all around this little girl. Dean really hated those cases, he couldn't stand bringing down the cutesy, innocent monsters. A monster should look like a monster should look like a monster, not like a little girl in a red dress.

However, Castiel was not responding as though the girl was a threat. Instead he had come down to her level, looked at her rather fiercely, and visibly relaxed. Except for the confusion on his face. Probably not a monster, Dean decided.

“Lilo,” Nani said sharply, and then her voice softened. “Honeyface, this is Mr,” She paused. “Stitch.”

Lilo looked up, popping the top of her jar, and frowned at Castiel. “Stitch,” She rolled the word around her mouth and tipped her head to the side. “You don’t look like a social worker.”

“I’m new,” Castiel answered smoothly, narrowing his eyes at Lilo.

“Did you ever kill anyone?”

“Yes,” Castiel replied honestly, eyes narrowing further, and Dean leapt at Castiel, pulling the angel to his feet. He grinned apologetically at Nani.

“Isn’t he a scream?” Dean’s grin tugged uncomfortably on his face. “He’s great with kids. Really gets on their level.”

Castiel shrugged Dean off, and returned his attention to Lilo, who was staring up at him with the sort of collected interest Dean could have used. 

“What’s this?” Castiel indicated the picklejar, and the spoons on the floor next to Lilo. Each spoon was decorated to resemble – vaguely – a young girl. They had frowny faces too.

“My friends,” Lilo stuffed the lot of them into the jar, closing it and shaking it. “They need to be punished.”

Castiel spotted the book next to Lilo, and bent down to pick it up. He sat next to Lilo, reading it out carefully, “Practical Voodoo…?” 

“She has,” Nani grinned just as widely as Dean. “Diverse hobbies. Kids, right?” She changed the subject hurriedly. “Lemonade?”

He and Nani seemed to both be trying to cover for the strangeness of their respective charges, so Dean smiled back in response.

“Lemonade sounds great,” He gestured at Castiel. “Alright if we leave them to talk more?”

Nani gave a worried look – and warning look too, that reminded Dean absolutely of Sam – towards Lilo, but dutifully headed off to the kitchen. She seemed to pause to gaze worriedly at the dirty pans left on the stove, and quickly turned the cooker off.

“You left the stove on?” Dean blinked. “Y’know that’s a fire hazard.”

“Well, I,” Nani struggled, flailing for an excuse. “Just a simmer, had to pop to the store for a-”

Dean waved the matter off, whatever was going on, this girl was clearly trying and about ready to jump out of her decidedly human skin, “Just, okay, don’t do it again, alright? You got a kid here,” Nani headed over to the fridge, pulling a bottle of lemonade out and pouring a glass for Dean. He took it and sipped it gingerly, “So she looks like a right handful.”

“Oh, she, she’s just taking this very hard,” Nani fumbled. “We’re just getting used to this.”

“Kids are tougher than they look,” Dean leaned against the counter, and set the glass down. He fought the urge to adjust his jacket, and hair. Still, he could see Nani was concerned about the girl – hell, who wouldn’t be, so he spoke with all his due confidence and experience, “She'll bounce back, you'll see," He picked the glass up again, and took a gulp. “Let’s talk about you Nani, everything been going alright with you?”

“Well, it’s difficult,” Nani sighed. “It’s hard to go from sister to parent.”

“We appreciate that,” Dean reassured quickly.

He suspected Nani wasn’t in too hot with social services given the state of the kitchen, but Nani was clearly trying. He wasn’t about to shit on a sibling trying their best to raise their little one. He’d spent far too long watching Sam try to cover up that his stomach was growling, because Sam already knew they didn’t have anything for food. Nani was probably okay for food, but there clearly wasn’t much money leftover for repairs. 

“You have work in a few hours, right?” Dean finished his lemonade. “We’ll try to get out of your hair as soon as possible.”

“Mahalo plenty,” Nani smiled, fetching the glass and putting it in the sink. She still seemed nervous – and Dean couldn’t blame her, hoping he wasn’t getting her hopes up.

“So, the house,” Dean began. “Alright if I take a look around?”

“Of, of course,” Nani shifted on the spot. “It’s still a bit of a-”

“I’ll remember that,” Dean smiled winningly. “We didn’t exactly give you much notice, but next time…?” He left it hanging and Nani nodded fiercely. He might be giving Nani false hope, but he could at least leave a few helpful hints. Hell, for all he knew her house was usually clean as a whistle.

* * *

“You will not be able to summon a loa without appropriate tribute,” Castiel indicated the pickle jar.

Lilo stopped shaking the pickle jar long enough to give Castiel a considering look. Her eyes narrowed, squinting at him.

“Nevertheless, I cannot advise the use of a loa to deal with a social issue,” Castiel continued. “They are often difficult to control, and would cause more trouble than they were worth.”

“They treat me different,” Lilo frowned, expression darkening as she drooped over the pickle jar.

“Maybe so,” Castiel conceded. “Have you summoned any other supernatural forces?”

“Nuh-uh,” Lilo twisted open the pickle jar, and pulled the spoons out, shaking the moisture off them. “You pulled all the nails out.”

"I'm very strong," Castiel replied honestly, and then added as a musing after-thought. "And you still have not summoned a loa."

“I don’t think you’re a social worker,” Lilo commented, and then frowned, “Does Pudge count?”

“Who’s Pudge?” Castiel pointedly ignored Lilo's first statement.

“A fish,” Lilo clarified. “Every Tuesday I take him a peanut butter sandwich.”

He cocked his head at Lilo. “Why do you pay Pudge tribute?”

“Pudge controls the weather,” Lilo said as thought it was obvious, so Castiel took it as most likely the truth. He had not been aware fish could control the weather – some koalas could, but they were often too asleep, or inebriated to do so.

“That may count, but it’s unlikely to be the source of the problem,” Castiel got up slowly. “I would need to meet Pudge to be sure,” He cocked his head at Lilo. “What weather do you ask for?”

“If Pudge is happy then he doesn’t make it rain.”

“Rain is very important,” Castiel frowned. “Although there have not been signs of drought in this area.”

“Dangerous rain,” Lilo said in exasperation. “For driving!” 

“Oh,” Castiel nodded. “Of course.”

"Wanna listen to The King?" Lilo indicated her record player.

"The King?" Castiel tried to place the name. 

"You look like an Elvis fan."

"Elvis Presley," One of Dean's endless choice in bands. "The King."

"This one's my fave," Lilo leaned over to replace the record, and the entire house swum with Devil in Disguise.

* * *

 “The young girl is not a supernatural being,” Castiel stated as they walked away from the Pelekai household towards the town. “Nor has she summoned one, although she does pay tribute to Pudge the Fish.”

“Pudge… the fish?” Dean’s expression twisted as he loosened his tie.

“Pudge controls the weather.” Castiel filled Dean in absently.

“Pudge is a fish?”

“Yes,” Castiel nodded. “An orange one, I have yet to identify the species.”

“Fish can’t control the weather.” Dean stated firmly. “Lilo’s just traumatized.”

“They can’t?” Castiel glanced back towards Dean. “Why is she traumatized?” Castiel blinked, pausing to turn round to face Dean who came to a stilted stop.

“Their parents died a few months back,” Dean stuffed his hands in his pockets, and brushed past Castiel. “Car crash, rainy night, Lilo’s been on about this fish ever since.”

“She blames herself for her lack of tribute,” Castiel frowned.

“Probably,” Dean sighed. “Formalized kinship care back there – Nani’s her sister. Hope the actual social workers like them as much as I did, they're good people," Dean shrugged. "Either way, I took a look around their house, and the place was clean so we should steer clear, leave them to it, y'know.”

“I was also in the house and it was definitely not clean,” Castiel frowned. "There was litter left on the-"

“I mean, not evil. Don't be hard on them, they're trying,” Dean rolled his eyes. “So, no magic in the place, you sure that’s where the spell ended up?” He glanced back to see Castiel’s face, “Okay, you’re sure you didn’t make a mistake?” Castiel’s bitch face darkened. “Okay, alright, so-”

Dean’s phone jangled insistently, and he flipped it open, “This is Bob’s Whorehouse, we traffic them, you frick frack ‘em, how can we-”

“Dean, stop being a dick,” Sam cut over. “I’ve got a potential lead.”

“Good, ‘cause our sidequest ended up being irrelevant NPCs,” Dean clicked his tongue. “What’s your lead? Where are you?”

“Booking a motel room for us all,” Sam shrugged. “The Kauai Inn, 2430 Hulemalu Road.”

“Alright,” Dean frowned. “Talk when we get there.”

“I gotta’ get started on research anyway,” Sam sounded amped up. “But I think we’re looking at a pagan.”

“Pagan, huh, lovely," Wasn't a witch, and that was a win. "Alright, later bitch.”

“Jerk.” 

“Ohana, right?” Dean clicked his phone shut. “Just gotta deal with them.” 

“You said bitch first,” Castiel pointed out, and Dean rolled his eyes in response. “What is Ohana?”

“Means family,” Dean nodded. “Sort of their family motto, Ohana means family, family means nobody gets forgotten, or left behind.”

“A kind sentiment,” Castiel shut his eyes for a moment, thinking it over. Dean could see the familiar furrows of concentration, and realized vaguely that once again an incomprehensible being was finding him equally incomprehensible. The level of focus Castiel could bring to a crinkle of his brow, or narrow of his eyes was sometimes funny, sometimes worrying and mostly just as familiar as Dean's right hand, “I can see why you believe the house is clean of supernatural forces: an older sibling forced into caring for their younger, a strong sense of familial loyalt-" 

“Hey, who said anything about forced, that girl back there is really stepping up to the plate.”

“Circumstances have forced the situation,” Castiel insisted. “It is hard to expect so much of such a young woman.”

“They’re fine,” Dean insisted stiffly. “Besides, Cas, Stitch, seriously?”

“Is there a problem with my codename?” Castiel demanded testily.

“Stitch isn’t a real name,” Dean scowled. “Maybe it’s a good name in Heaven, but here, it’s not a good name.”

“You were Colonel Sanders,” Castiel pointed out. "That's the KFC icon."

“Yeah, but nobody called me up on the dumb name,” Dean argued. “Stitch, really?” 

“We’re getting off the subject – you empathize with their situation,” Castiel gave a small wince, picking something chattery up on his radio. Castiel's concentration was abruptly diverted, “My absence has been noted in Heaven.”

“How long have you got until things go to absolute shit?” Dean frowned, picking up the pace to get to the motel in a better time. Maybe a few extra seconds wouldn't amount to much, but Dean's business was a few extra seconds being the difference between heading back to memory foam and, well, not.

“A matter of days, perhaps,” Castiel gave a cautious shrug of his shoulders. “The entire matter is incredibly frustrating. I suppose you got your wish, I will be sticking around.”

“Didn’t want it to come at anybody’s expense though,” Dean nodded towards a turn-off. “This way,” He set off down the side-road. “Don’t get me wrong Cass, glad you’re around, would have preferred it on our own time though.”

“You and me both,” Castiel tugged at the spell about his wings, and flinched as the heat of the binding flared across his grace. Dean watched out of the corner of his eye, and Castiel gave another cautious shrug. “If this is a pagan situation,” Sometimes Dean forgot to give the angel the credit he deserved – sharp hearing was definitely a celestial perk. “The deity in question must be exceptionally powerful.”

“Secretly an archangel powerful?” 

“No, more likely a native god on traditional grounds,” Castiel elaborated. “You are lucky to have evaded any Native American gods thus far, since they would be somewhat above your paygrade, at least in America.”

“But we’re dealing with local gods here?”

“At least if we are dealing with a god,” Castiel thought for a moment, almost tugged at the spell again. “We’ll see what Sam has discovered.”

* * *

Sam was deeply engrossed in his research by the time Dean and Castiel had made the walk from the Pelekai household to the motel. Dean all but writhed out of his sticky, sweaty shirt, peeling it off and calling dibs on the shower. Castiel, to Dean’s utter disgust, was giving off the clean, slightly uncomfortable smell of ozone, baby powder, fresh snow and the delicate first steps of a baby deer.

Sam tossed a laughably bright shirt towards Dean as he made his way to the bathroom, and Dean caught it deftly, peering at it.

“Really?” The shirt was vivid, and starting to hurt Dean’s eyes. “This thing could turn my eyeballs to jello.”

“Only Cass’ll do that,” Sam grinned. “Hit the shower will you, you reek.”

“Why do you have the only reasonably coloured shirt?” Dean muttered as Sam tossed another insult-to-the-rainbow-shirt at Cas.

“Shut up,” Sam laughed, and smoothed his shirt down. “You’re in Hawai’i, you will wear that flower shirt and you will love it.” 

* * *

The shower was perfect, cool, clean, and Dean was reluctant to leave it, hovering under the showerhead. Still, he eventually clambered out of the shower, and pulled the obnoxious aloha shirt over his head, before struggling into shorts. Dean Winchester did not like shorts, but he liked the humidity even less, and it wasn’t like you could wear anything but shorts with an aloha shirt.

Toweling his hair off, he flopped into the chair next to Sam. “Nice short shorts Cas,” Dean jabbed loosely, not invested heavily in the remark. “Sammy, you should have told me you wanted to be a boy scout.”

Sam shoved a burger across the table towards Dean. “Shut up and eat your grub.”

“H’alright,” Dean peeled the burger and bit into it, chewing fiercely. “So,” He swallowed his mouthful. “What’s your theory?”

“Local Goddess, Pele,” Sam spun the laptop round and Dean took in the badly drawn depiction of a lady of fire. “She’s this Volcano-Water Goddess, local legend goes she curses people who take her rocks away from the island,” Sam nudged one of the volcanic rocks over towards Dean. “It’s a recent myth, but she fits the kills – she’s a water goddess who became a volcano goddess after playing with fire.”

“So death by drowning isn’t out of character?” Dean nodded. “Alright, so how do we deal with her?”

“Well, the thing is, she’s dead, kinda…” Sam shrugged at Dean’s expression, and turned his laptop back to face him, flicking between the tabs. “Her sister took her out like twice, including on Kaua’i.”

“Twice?” Castiel picked at a stray thread on his shirt.

“Yeah, and then she went to Hawai’i, the actual island, not the chain, okay the big island,” Sam tapped something into the search bar. “Her sister Nakama killed her on Ni’ihau, and then again on Kaua’i, before she turned into a volcano and they sorted it out.”

“That’s how I usually end my arguments too,” Dean quipped, and Castiel glanced over towards Dean.

“Yes, we have both noticed,” Dean frowned at Castiel's comment, unsure if he was being mocked or not, but given Sam's swallowed chuckle, he probably was. As soon as Dean had decided to outright glare at Castiel, the Angel had redirected his attention towards Sam. “If Pele is technically deceased, would she still potentially be the culprit?”

“Yeah, easy,” Sam nodded eagerly. “It’s just, since she doesn’t really have a true body, it’s a bit difficult to deal with her. Being dead twice already.”

“I can see that,” Dean bit into his burger, and then took a loud slurp of his drink. Nobody looked offended in the slightest, and Dean was half disappointed, and half in need of a good solid drink. Who knows how much was sweated out onto his shirt. “Any way to summon her to something we can take out?”

“Well, I was getting to that,” Sam turned the laptop back towards Castiel and Dean. “If you try and take pork from one side of an island to the other, this old lady and a dog will appear to stop you until you feed the pork to the dog.”

“Cute urban legend,” Dean pulled a face. “Which is related how?”

“Okay, so Pele and Kamapua’a, who was this war wild pig god hooked up,” Sam clicked the laptop shut. “It was a bit of a hot mess.”

“A war pagan and a volcano pagan, go figure.”

“Yeah so, when they broke up it was an even hotter mess,” Sam shrugged. “If you try and take pork from one side of any of the islands to the other, it’s like you’re trying to set them up again, so Pele sends this lady and dog to deal with you,” Sam paused. “Or Pele might actually be the lady or dog, it’s a bit abstract.”

“And once we summon Pele-not-Pele?” Dean asked.

“Well, I guess we talk,” Sam shrugged.

“Talk?” Dean glanced towards Castiel and then back to Sam. “This is a volcano goddess, right, isn’t that asking for trouble?”

“Not as such,” Sam leaned back in his chair. “Pele’s actually one of those dual goddesses, like if you piss her off she’ll go nuclear.”

“Mount Vesuvius on your ass right?”

“Right,” Sam nodded, rocking his chair. “But if you placate her, she’s a creative, love and life goddess,” Sam nodded at his laptop. “Like the summon – she’ll hate you if you don’t feed the dog the pork, but once you do that she settles right down.”

“Like an actual volcano,” Castiel commented. “Once its pyroclastic eruption is complete, it brings fertility and life, via volcanic soil rich in iron and sulphur.”

“Exactly,” Sam grinned. “Pele here likes gin, so we bring her a bottle of that, and feed the dog the pork. After that, we should be fine to just talk.”

“Or we could deal with her the traditional route,” Dean mimed the familiar stabbing motion that usually followed taking out a pagan. 

Castiel made a disapproving sound, “I would not suggest the killing of native gods on their own consecrated ground. It causes an unpleasant political situation, particularly when the deity has an extended family.”

“Let me guess, Pele has a big ohana?” Dean eyed Sam, and then translated quickly. “Family.”

“Thirteen sisters named Hi’i’aka, that one sister who killed her twice, bunch of brothers, couple of ex husbands, parents, you name it,” Sam let his chair fall back into position. “Besides, Pele is already dead in Kaua’i.”

“We can’t salt and burn a goddess then?”

“I doubt it.” 

“So, we probably can’t off Pele, and we shouldn’t anyway, unless we have to,” Dean swallowed the last of his burger. “Alright, we bring her a bottle of gin and see if she’ll back off,” Dean sipped his drink thirstily, and eyed the room. “This place can’t have been cheap.”

“About 130 a night,” Sam shrugged. “I figure if we’re going to vacation here we can go a little above the usual.”

“Yeah, point,” Dean swiveled to look at Cas. “What’re you going to do with yourself, and don’t say watch over you, because hell if that’s not creepy.”

Castiel meekly toyed with his shirt again, “Perhaps I will take a walk along the beach.”

“And then what?” Dean rolled his eyes.

“A very long walk,” Castiel concluded.

* * *

Sam woke up to the whirr of the air conditioner and a face full of Castiel, and promptly rolled right out of bed. “Cass!” He hissed, and Castiel’s eyes cracked open blearily. “What are you doing?”

“The bind is tiring,” Castiel sat up, cracking his neck and stretching his arms out.

“So you were sleeping?”

“Yes,” Castiel looked over towards Sam and frowned. “You kick in your sleep.”

“Why didn’t you sleep on the couch?” Sam demanded. “Or Dean’s bed – he doesn’t kick.”

“He steals the blankets,” Castiel stated primly. “And I tried to sleep on the couch, it was incredibly uncomfortable,” Castiel paused, and gave one last stretch. “I also thought Dean would react much more poorly to me being in his bed.”

Sam considered that for a moment, and then shrugged a shoulder in concession. Dean would have woken up with a scream, instead of a surprised yelp, “Yeah, okay,” Sam walked towards his duffel, pulling his toothbrush out and a pair of clean underwear. “So, you’re getting low on grace?”

“No, just exhausting myself,” Castiel looked over towards the fridge. “I collected the material necessary for the ritual.”

“So just some pork.”

"And gin," Castiel nodded, “I got bacon, since it was sold in bulk and Dean likes it.”

Dean rolled over, eyes tightly closed, “Shut up guys, try’na sleep.”

“Get up you big baby,” Sam stalked over to Dean’s bed and pulled the sheet away petulantly. “Come on, Dean. Cass bought you bacon.” Sam gave Dean a shove. "He's climbing ladders, bringing home the bacon, come on Dean."

"I did not climb any ladders," Castiel clarified. "But you do need to wake up Dean."

“No,” Dean grumbled, curling into a heap. “Need my beauty sleep.”

“Not enough hours in the day, dude,” Sam dumped the sheet back over Dean’s head, and looked towards Castiel. “How’re you tiring yourself?”

Castiel yanked at the yoke around his wings, and felt the familiar hot wash of what he assumed to be Pele. This time it was tinged with cold that set his teeth on edge. “I have been attempting to break the spell.”

By now Dean was awake, peeling out of the sheets. He shot Castiel an odd look as the angel clambered out of Sam’s bed. “Been playing tug o’war with Pele?” Dean went for, voice delicate. 

“I presume so,” Castiel adjusted his aloha shirt, and once again Dean could kick the angel for not having to deal with bodily smells and reek like regular people did. Dean didn't think he'd have minded the lack of human qualities in his friend, if only his friend had the grace to at least pick up some of the nastier human habits. B.O issues and popping random socially inappropriate boners, that sort of thing.

Still, Dean himself was rather human, and had his mourning ritual of banishing hallitosis, and tartar to deal with. He all but shrugged out of his bed, and went to fetch his toothbrush from the bags. As he stepped into the bathroom, Sam flung the aloha shirt towards him, and he caught it deftly. Opening it up to examine its lurid colours, Dean pulled a face and dropped it to the floor, stepping over it daintily.

“You don’t want to be the odd one out,” Sam wiped toothpaste off his lips. “Do you?”

Dean rolled his eyes, and set about brushing his teeth, as Sam and Castiel busied themselves fetching the gin and pork from the fridge.

* * *

The aloha shirt and kitschy shorts were certainly better with the weather, Dean thought a little resentfully as the three of them trekked neatly over the island. They’d driven baby until they were nearly at the halfway point, but now it was slightly more delicate. If they got past that point with the pork – more than possible in a vehicle – Pele might just make a cheese melt out of their faces, so they were walking through the undergrowth, holding a sandwich bag of raw bacon that was beginning to smell downright nasty.

Dean dealt in dead bodies, and when people said people tasted mostly like pork, he could more than confirm both that – yeah they did, viscera in his mouth – and that dead bodies smelt just like rotting bacon. His stomach flipped uncomfortably of the thought of eating the bacon in the fridge later.

So, they were stomping through the tropical grassland, smelling like rotten pig/human, except for Castiel who was consistently smelling like wild flowers, cocoa butter, spring water, and freakin’ daisies. Dean really didn’t appreciate this summoning ritual.

However, it did at least work. As they broke out from the undergrowth into a clearing, an old woman with a little white dog on a threadbare leash was waiting for them. Dean shook the bacon out on the ground for the dog to eat, but the dog sniffed the bacon and refused it.

“Uh,” Sam looked at the old lady uneasily, before offering her a bottle of (the piss warm) gin.

She took it easily, and opened it up to take a swig, “A’ole pilikia,” She laughed. “I like it better warm.”

“Sorry the pork’s no good for pooch,” Dean jabbed a thumb at the dog. “Now how about you tell us how to parlay with Pele.”

“Speaking,” The dog – and Dean’s eyes goggled at it – stated, now backpawing the pork to bury it. “Well don’t stare.”

“Not polite,” The Old Woman added, and offered her hand to Dean. “Pele here, howzit?”

“Wait, wait,” Sam looked between them. “You’re both Pele?”

“Both parts of Pele,” The dog corrected and barked as Castiel came a bit too close.

“You don’t appear to be deities," Castiel insisted, but backed away. 

“Parts,” The dog repeated, and sat down to scratch its ear.

“Whatever,” Dean shook his head in confusion. “Can you knock the cursing off.”

“I don’t curse people,” The woman snapped. “I burn them, and turn them to stone.”

“Yeah well, stop drowning those people who take the rocks off your island,” Dean insisted.

The dog nipped at Dean’s ankles warningly, “Didn’t you listen? I burn people, I don’t drown them, and I don’t care what they do with my stones.”

“Who did then?” Sam shrugged his hands, really hoping the gin wasn’t going to be molotov’d at their faces. “They’re yours.”

“You can’t act like they aren’t your business,” Dean added.

“Not my M.O though,” The dog replied with a growl. “Find a different patsy.” 

“The binding spell placed on the island?” Castiel asked. 

“Also none of my business,” The dog tipped his head to the left. “I’m in the business of being jilted, not pinning Christians by the wings.”

“It is a fire spell,” Castiel pointed out. “That’s your M.O.”

“But none of my business,” The woman said firmly.  

"And it's not a fire spell, tourists, really," The dog added. “That all?”

They had apparently exhausted the meeting, so Dean gritted his teeth and shrugged meanly, "About."

"Good," The dog snapped its teeth together.

“And if you summon me to make accusations,” The woman took another gulp of the gin and bared her teeth at them. “I will burn the heart from you jokers.”

With that, the woman and dog disappeared in a splatter of fire, that Dean stomped out instinctually. Swearing loudly, Dean kicked what was left of the bacon – charred to a crisp – into the dust, and turned to look at Sam and Castiel. 

“So, think she was being straight with us?”

“This is her territory,” Castiel squinted, eyes drifting away in thought. “And we would be unable to harm her – she has no reason to be dishonest with us.” 

“It was an urban myth,” Sam put in slowly. “Her being mad about the rocks. I just thought there might be truth to it. The older legends agree she didn’t-”

“Give a fuck?” Dean summarized.

“Well, apparently,” Sam blew out through his nose. 

“So this whole exercise was what? Pointless?” Dean began the long march back to the impala. “Jesus Christ.”

“And back to square one,” Sam shrugged at Castiel, as they both set off back into the undergrowth.

* * *

“So,” Dean passed an snow cone to Castiel, and the other to Sam, before nibbling his own. The breeze coming off the surf was far more comfortable than the clear heat in town. “Were there any other connections?”

“Rocks were all from different stores, different sources,” Sam licked his shave ice cone and shrugged. “Some weren’t even from the same island.”

Castiel sniffed and bit into the snow cone, before pausing, eyes slightly wide. Dean could see something ticking over in the angel's brain, that he suspected was pure shock.

“Brain freeze?” Dean laughed, and licked his cone appreciatively. “Do angels even get that?” Dean laughed again. "I thought you had a slushie machine at your gas-n-sip."

"We did," Castiel informed Dean, and frowned, brows knitting together. “This is my first encounter with brain freeze," Dean could see Castiel's face twitch. "The sensation is fascinating,” He blinked a couple of times, before taking another bite. “I like it.”

Dean chuckled, shaking his head, and licked the syrup off his lips. “The cone or the brain freeze?”

“Both,” Castiel decided, and Sam huffed a laugh of his own.

“Still," Dean returned his attention to the case. "We’re back to investigating from scratch,” Dean said thoughtfully, running his tongue over his mouth again. “Any ideas of where to look next? See if we can follow another lead on the bind-”

“Stitch!”

Dean startled, looking around to see the small girl from the Pelekai house sprinting jerkily towards Castiel. Out of breath, she panted, resting her hands against her green and yellow dress, before looking up at him with fierce delight. 

“Lilo,” Castiel greeted, inclining his head, and then offered her the remains of the shaved ice.

“Ooh, yum!” Lilo took it and nibbled at the sides. She ended up smearing most of the treat over her face, and Dean hurriedly wiped his to make sure he'd gotten the last of it. Couldn't be comparing himself to a kid under the age of ten.

“Uh,” Sam looked between Lilo and Castiel. “This the NPC you mentioned.”

“Yep,” Dean possessively licked his snow cone when Castiel glanced at it, and poked his tongue out. It was stained red with syrup. “Cass is good with kids I guess,” Dean peered at Lilo, and grinned warmly. “Hey there, squirt,” He looked each way. “Where’s your big sis at?”

Lilo took a big lick of the shaved ice. “She’s meeting me here,” And eyed Dean with a look that concerned him on a deep, deep level. Practically predatory. “Colonel Sanders.”

“See,” Castiel stated brightly to Dean. “Clearly Sanders is also a ridiculous name.”

Dean pulled a face at Castiel, and returned his attention to Lilo. “Sis get to work in time last night, yeah?”

“Yuh-huh,” Lilo finished the last of the cone, and handed the sticky wrapper back to Castiel, who took it with all the grace expected of an angel. “Wanna see Pudge?" 

“Of course,” Castiel scanned the horizon. “I assume Pudge lives in the ocean?”

“Pudge is a fish.” Dean explained to Sam, before interrupting again. “We should wait for your sister,” He peered at Castiel. “Can you even swim, Cass?” 

“Of course he can.” Lilo replied, deeply offended on Castiel’s behalf. She turned her attention to Sam, blinking a couple of times. “Wow.”

“Yeah, this hulk is my brother,” Dean gestured at Sam. “Never eat your brussels or you could end up like him.”

“Jerk,” Sam retorted. 

“Bi-” Lilo’s big brown eyes were studying Dean, and Dean coughed down the rest of that response. Glared at Sam, oh he'd so get him later for this. “So, kid, lived in Kaua’i long?”

“You’re not really a social worker are you,” Lilo replied conversationally. Dean laughed cautiously at her, but Lilo wasn't dissuaded, “I’ve lived here my whole life, it’s in my file.” Lilo beamed brightly at them, apparently not caring that they'd impersonated social workers. “Are you special agents?”

“Yeah sure," They usually were. "Yes we are.”

Lilo frowned skeptically, arching an eyebrow in demand. Dean sighed, and pulled the ever-ready badge from his pocket, flipping it open for the girl to look at. She gave a satisfied nod, and Dean tucked it away quickly.

“I knew it,” Lilo stated quietly.

Dean raised his eyebrows at Sam, who raised his back.

“So, what are you investigating?” Lilo asked conversationally as she dragged Castiel by the hand down the beach.

“Investigating?” Castiel asked slowly, glancing back towards Sam and Dean. Dean seemed to be having a snickering fit at Castiel being pulled along by the girl.

“Yeah, special agents investigate mysterious deaths and-”

“O-kay, I don’t know what shows you watch kid, but-” Dean was cut off when Lilo waved to a young man across the beach.

“Hey David!” Lilo hurried over, Castiel still in tow. “David, David, these are my friends.”

Sam raised his eyebrows at Dean, who raised his back.

“For real?” The young man looked them over, and blinked when he saw Sam. “Didn’t you buy some stuff at Old Man Kukhkini’s?”

“Yeah, David, right?”

“This is Stitch,” Lilo tugged Castiel over to David. “He told me how to summon a loa. That’s his best friend Sanders, and his brother the Hulk,” David looked between them, “They investigate vampire murders,” Lilo grinned. “So the boss at the Luau place better watch out.” 

It was a little scary how accurate that was, obviously the names weren't quite right but Sam was definitely a hulk, and they definitely investigated murders that were not uncommonly related to vampires. Dean shook his head in disbelief, and flashed a _what are you going to do_ smile towards David. 

“Sam,” Sam cut over. “And my brother Dean.”

“Aue, you must be the social workers Nani mentioned.”

“That’s us,” Dean smiled.

“They’re not social workers,” Lilo protested. “They’re agents – I saw their badges!”

“Kids,” Dean chuckled and Lilo hissed at Dean, snarling in the back of her throat. “Cute huh?”

“Lilo,” Nani was jogging over to the group, and Dean stepped back, leaning into the heels of his shoes. Castiel peered over at Nani, as Nani stopped in front of Lilo, “Lilo, baby, you’re not bothering-”

“Nah, she’s a right cutie,” Dean smiled. “She’s no trouble.”

“Mr Sanders,” Nani was more nervous than a cat on a tin roof when the sun was coming up. Dean tried smiling wider to put her at ease, and it only somewhat worked.

“Dean Sanders and," David looked between the two brothers. "Sam Sanders?”

“Unfortunate but true,” Sam shrugged expressively and nodded towards Dean. “Hard to know which of us have it worse.”

“Hey, we could be Stitch,” Dean tipped his head towards Castiel with a grin. "That'd be worse."

“Nani, I want to show Stitch how to surf, he says he doesn’t know,” Lilo insisted.

“I’m afraid we don’t have any boards,” Castiel said regretfully.

“Shoots, just rent some mal down at the boat shop,” David pointed to the back of him. “Good deals too.”

“We don’t have time to-” Dean began. 

“We’re not doing anything,” Sam corrected. 

“Come on,” Lilo insisted, jerking Castiel’s arm around. “Come on!”

“Dean?” Castiel looked at Dean, and he’d been sort of expecting a worn out expression, begging for rescue. He did not expect to see an incredibly hopeful angel looking back at him.

“Well, uh, alright,” Dean scratched behind his head. “Alright, let’s try this.”

* * *

 A mal – as it turned out – was a long, wide board called a malibu, that was apparently best for beginners. As Dean stood waist-high in the water, examining the board in front of him, he had to wonder how he’d allowed himself to be talked into this. Beginner didn't even begin to describe him.

Winchesters were not ocean creatures – they were snow, and road-ready, and plaid-covered layers of jackets – they were not cheap aloha print board shorts, and surf boards. If Winchesters could be compared to any animal, Dean would call them wolves. Pack creatures with hierarchy issues, who liked cold weather and snarling at things.

They were not otters, or turtles, or fish, or frogs.

Sam pulled his arm through the water, soaking Deans’ upper body, and Dean shook the water out of his hair, gasping.

“That’ll speed you up,” Sam was lazing on the board, vaguely padding towards the take-off zone – far off and nebulous as far as Dean was concerned. “Get on your board, Dean,” He indicated Castiel who was turtle-rolling through whitewash. “Come on Cass can do it.”

Correction, whilst most reasonable, sensible Winchesters (read: Dean) were wolves, some Winchesters, such as gangly, jerkish little brothers were apparently mermaids.

Dean sucked a breath in, tossing his now damp hair back, and hopped onto the board. It tipped under his momentum but kept steady, and Dean settled a leg either side of the board.

Sam was already off, eye settled on the take-off zone, when there was a loud gargling noise to Dean’s left and a splurt of water. He fell off the board and came up, spitting to see Lilo grinning at him from the water.

“You’re such a pain, aren’t you?” Dean snorted at the girl, and Lilo paddled backwards, feet kicking.

“It’s my job,” Lilo informed him, more than a little bit smug, as she paddled back towards him. Castiel had vaguely drifted out towards them, board still on top of him as he lazily let it carry him through the smaller and smaller waves.

There was a confident, and pleased flick as Castiel righted himself. The angel lounged over the side of his board, briefly running a hand through his soaked hair, as it curled against his forehead.

“He’s not very comfy in the water, huh?” Lilo hung herself on the board next to Castiel.

“Indeed, not,” Castiel nodded. “I do not think he is well acquainted with the sea.”

“I don’t remember signing up for two pains,” Dean reminded Castiel briskly, hopping back up onto his board, and dropping both legs into the water to steady himself.

“My sister likes your tat,” Lilo chipped in, and Dean rubbed a hand absently over the devil’s trap.

“I believe she called it,” Castiel thought for a moment. “Very punk rock.”

“Thought she was dating David,” Dean adjusted his hair, stretching on the board with a deliberate ripple of muscles. Even caught a very definite eyeroll from Castiel. “Not that I mind; it is pretty punk rock.”

“Not yet,” Lilo sighed, dropping her head back in the water. “They’re being stupid heads about it too.”

“Lilo would prefer it if her sister went on a date with David already,” Castiel contributed, letting go of the board with Lilo, and kicking back before he jumped up onto the board.

“Well she likes his butt – and his fancy hair!” Lilo protested, as she let Castiel pick her up out of the water, and place her at the nose of the board.

“Sounds like a recipe for a romance,” Dean commented sardonically, lifting a foot up to kick Castiel overboard. Of course, pushing, shoving, pulling or restraining an angel in any shape of form usually relied on the angel letting you move them. Instead of say, breaking his foot. Once again, Castiel did not disappoint, flopping aimlessly into the water.

Lilo peered over the edge of the board when Castiel came up the side closest to Dean, and spurted water directly into Dean’s face.

“Eugh, backwash,” Dean leaned back too far on the board and went over backward, falling ass over teakettle into the water. He came up for air, quickly scrambling right back onto the lifesaving board, “Cass, you’re gross.”

Lilo settled on Castiel’s board, “Cass,” She paused. "Stitch.”

“Either is fine,” Castiel assured the girl, and peered out towards the ocean. "I would like to attempt to surf."

"Ooh take me with!"

“I would prefer not to endanger you, and your sister was clear we could not take you on the board for our first attempts.”

Dean plucked Lilo up by her arms, lifting her easily onto his board. Probably not as effortlessly as Castiel had, but she hardly weighed a thing.

“Go chase the ocean blue, Cass,” Dean encouraged. “We're fine to wait right here.” 

“Yellow belly,” Lilo informed Dean, and he mimed pushing her into the water. “Aiya, no!” Dean pulled his hands back peacefully, smirking at the girl. 

“See you soon,” Castiel clambered up onto the Malibu, and headed out for deeper water, his feet tucked under him. Dean followed Castiel out, his gaze cutting away to see Sam completely miss grabbing a wave.

“He likes your soul, and strength of character,” Lilo twisted on the board to eye Dean brightly. “I know, he told me.” 

Dean pulled up, frowning at Lilo, “Woah, okay,” Lilo continued to stare at him guilelessly. “Just what do you two talk about?”

“Are you going to date him?” Lilo tipped her head.

Dean almost fell off the board again, laughing hard and deep from his gut. “God no.” 

“Cause you’re a yella’ belly?”

Dean swallowed down his laughter, to give an irritated hiccough of snickers at Lilo. “I am not a yellow belly.” Lilo’s expression was even more skeptical than when Dean had admitted to faking being a government official. “We’re good friends.”

“My sister and David are good friends.”

Dean waved a hand absently, settling his weight back a bit on the board to compensate for Lilo’s shift forward. “Different sort of friends, squirt.”

“Not that different,” Lilo decided. “You’re _always_ watching him.”

Dean shifted his weight forward again as Lilo moved away from the nose of the board. “Yeah, because he’s a total baby,” Dean snorted. “He’ll probably drown himself out there.”

“Which is why you’re out here, baby,” Lilo jumped off the board into the water, and Dean scrambled to rebalancing, flailing for a moment. Lilo swam eagerly out towards Sam, who was lazily riding the small breaks in. “Hulk!” She waved both arms over her head and Sam fished her out of the water onto his board.

“Watch out,” Dean hollered to Sam. “You just fished up a piranha,” He saw Lilo snap her teeth excitedly at Sam, who rolled off the board in mock horror. He looked up to see Castiel repositioning his board for the millionth time, leg dipping into the water to turn the board frontside.

“They’re doing good for beginners,” David shook water from his ears, and Dean swiveled about to shrug at the local. “He looks pretty amped.” David nodded towards Castiel who was settling back on the water eagerly.

Dean shrugged, “Cass is like that, gets really into stuff.”

 “Yeah, Lilo too. They sure hit it off,” David grinned. “So come to Kaua’i to stay?” 

“Fraid not, just picking up an odd job to fill in,” Dean waved one of his feet back and forth in the water. “Figured I’d take some time off after, spend some time with my brother.”

"And Stitch?" David nodded his head out towards Castiel who was very carefully glancing back behind him towards the rising surf. 

"He'll push off in a day or two," Dean rolled his shoulders in a shrug. "Never sticks around long."

"Really?" David brushed his hair back. "Seems like you three know each other well."

Dean watched Castiel uneasily attempt to pop up on his board, and could have sworn the angel would have had both wings open wide, and skimming the water for balance. Instead Castiel wobbled uncertainly, arms thrown wide and expression filled with a deadly focus generally applied to sharp objects and graceful exorcism. Sort of attention you put towards an apocalypse, rather than surfing a wave.

"You sure he hasn't surfed?" David glanced at Dean.

Dean laughed low into his throat, the sound fluttering through his lungs, "Man, with Cass, I wouldn't want to guess," Dean stifled his grin. "Dude gets around; can't pop culture reference to save his life, but I'd want him on my team for a trivia night," Dean cleared his throat. "Yeah, he might not stick around, but known him five... six years now. 'Bout the only best friend I've got."

"You move around a lot too huh?" 

"Go where the road takes us," Dean nodded to Sam, as his brother lazily pushed the board - Lilo standing happily in the middle - towards them through the water. "Hey Sammy."

"It's Sam."

"Jerk," Dean grinned at his brother, and licked the salt from his lips. "Nice water you get here - it's warm."

"You really should try it," Sam nodded towards Castiel's uneasy slide off the wave. Sam hooked himself at the end of the board, and brushed his soaking flecks of hair from his face. "We're in Hawai'i - how can you not be surfing?"

"He's a scaredy cat," Lilo told Sam, settling back on the board to stage-whisper at the younger Winchester. "Tell him he's a yellow belly."

"Hate to be the one to break the bad news, Dean," Sam smiled foppishly. "You are - in fact - a yellow belly."

"I don't see what the big deal is," Dean complained.

"We rented boards and everything!"

"And I am enjoying it very much," Dean repeated. "Just," He gestured vaguely. "Right-side up." Dean gave a nod towards Castiel who had come off his board and was chasing after it in the leftover foam of the wave. 

"Yellow belly," Lilo repeated. The girl gave a knowing nod and hopped into the water to swim over towards David. Scooped out onto David's board, the two paddled out to the take-off, and Dean poked his tongue out towards them.

"You're such a bitch," Dean threw a dirty look at Sam. 

"Least I'm not scared of a bit of surf," Sam countered with a grin.

* * *

"Sam seems to be getting the hang of it," Castiel pushed his damp hair from his eyes. "He's popping up nicely now..." Castiel trailed off as he peered at his finger-tips. Dean chuckled under his breath, as Castiel twisted his hand each way, examining the slight ridges on the pads of his fingers. 

The angel was perched on the nose-end of Dean's board, and Dean leant right back to counter-weight the - if he was frank - lazy and sated looking celestial wavelength.

"Got magic fingers, maestro?"

Castiel glanced back at Dean and gave an tentative grin, "Homo Sapiens Sapiens has a great many adaptions for water, such as increased grip in water."

"Is that meant to convince me to surf it up, because," Dean shook his head. "I'm telling you, not in the-" Dean froze, peering over Castiel's head, and Castiel looked round, eyes squinting and stinging with salt, "Sam just went under."

Dean flailed, and kicked off the board as quickly as he could, and it flipped over Castiel's head. The angel gave a half-yelp as he came up, snorting salt-water. Castiel twisted in the water, looking for Dean and spotted him coming up on the other side of a wave that was already buckling. The hunter took in a sharp breath and was already stroking desperately towards the thin shape of Sam's board. Castiel's heart sank, dropping like a rock to rest heavily in his gut; Sam was nowhere in sight. Castiel took off after the hunter, kicking the board towards the shallows and hoping it'd wash up there. 

"Sam!" Dean flung his hand out onto Sam's board with a thwack, and flicked round in the water for a few seconds, blinking water out of his eyes. It stuck to his eyelashes, and he gave another blink, flicking the droplets away. "Damn it," Dean cursed, and drew in a deep breath. He kicked under, heels thumping on the board painfully.

Under the glossy surface of the water, Dean stared round at the blurry shift from bright, sunlit water to the navy that made Dean's skin crawl - what was in there, he couldn't tell, he most certainly didn't trust it. Sam really could not have gotten far, or, Dean thought, brain already beginning to growl for air, deep. However, there tangled around Sam's torso was every reason Dean wasn't too keen on dark water. 

 

Human, probably - humanoid - and covered in bright orange, blue spotted scales, was (as far as Dean was concerned) a fucking mermaid. She - it - was wrapped around Sam, long flowing fins tightening, and squeezing, and the long run of gills gaping, going all the way down the neck of the mermaid, towards the irridescent and shapeless body.

Dean kicked at the long trail of tightened tail, and scraped at it with his fingers - mouth bursting open with a yipe that was promptly swallowed up in the ocean - as the scales cut through his fingertips, leaving a cloud of blood in the water. The mermaid inhaled, and abruptly fixed her attention on Dean, milky eyes gleaming with interest. Pupil-less like a demon, but bright like an angel on a low-setting. The blue spots and streaks along the mermaid lit up in a delightful display of bioluminescence, as she opened her mouth to issue a stream of snarled bubbles at Dean and hooked around him.

Sam had begun to float towards the surface, released from Miss Kraken 2014, but Dean had a horrible sinking feeling - lungs empty, mind screaming and scrabbling for oxygen, blood pounding in his temples - and actually sinking. The long tail tightened about Dean, scales digging into his chest, and he flailed weakly, buffeting at the mermaid. Felt his eyelids twitching shut, vision flashing black and horrific red. Once again the mermaid revealed her bright circle of needle-sharp teeth, each a bit too long and digging in needle-sharp around his mouth. Kissing mermaids, life's little blessings really, and Dean's brain snapped out its final opinion on the matter of the mermaid: leviathan-teeth, cut off the head and the body will flounder, and the little mermaid.

Something slammed into him, ripping the teeth from his face in what felt suspiciously like agony. Once again the blood clouded and clumped in the water, and knowing Dean's luck, it was a shark that had crashed the party. Felt like a mountain of concrete, and Dean forced his eyes open long enough to spot Castiel snap-kicking the mermaid in the face. The force was dampened under water, but where the grip had felt tight, it was suddenly loose and elsewhere and Dean's eyes flickered shut again, and he was thoroughly elsewhere. Felt Castiel prying the last coils of the mermaid's ridiculously long and sharp tail off him, and pull him in a gutless direction, probably, hopefully up.

* * *

Castiel hauled Dean from the depths, and rested him over the surfboard. Sam – dazed, and hacking salt water up – clung to the edge of the malibu, as Castiel rolled Dean over on the board. Sam continued to cough, shaking his hair from his face, fingernails digging into the wood, and took in a heavy breath. Dean's upper body - like Sam's - was sliced open in a dozen lacerations, and Sam winced at the sting as the sea lapped at his chest. At least sterilization would be a touch easier. Dean's mouth was soaked into watered down blood, and ringed with a circle of punctures, and where Sam had managed to cough out the small sea he'd swallowed, Dean was hacking up the pacific.

"N-no way he swallowed t-tha-" Sam choked out, shifting to make space as Castiel leaned close to examine Dean's chest in a swift scanning movement. "C-Cass?"

"His lungs are producing the water," Castiel skimmed a hand over Dean's chest, and hauled himself against Dean. Castiel hunched as best he could over Dean, cupping his face before sealing his lips over Dean. 

"C-c-p-CPR?" Sam demanded incredulously. If Dean was hacking the water up from nowhere - his own lungs - he was almost certainly dealing with whatever the seven vics had died of; CPR was not going to do a lick of good. Hell, some of the people who had watched the victims die had tried it. They'd ended up half-drowning themselves for their troubles.

Castiel pulled away, mouth smeared with blood, and panting. At the corner of his mouth - bright in the sunlight - a hint of grace flickered out.

“Grace,” Castiel informed Sam, voice defensive. The angel watched Dean long-enough to determine the water was thinning, the last sputters of it ending up on the board.

“Won’t that kill him?” Sam gave a cough, his throat sore and burning from the water. 

“Just a fraction, not enough to burn him out,” Castiel wiped the back of his hand against his mouth, before brushing Dean’s chest, clearing the cuts away. “I did not know the components of the curse, I did the only thing I thought might work,” The angel reached out to erase Sam's injuries, fingertips fumbling.

* * *

Somewhere, elsewhere, Castiel was yelling at him, but here and now, Dean's head was throbbing, aching. He couldn't make out the shape of what Castiel was saying, just pick out the tone. Worried, clear, loud, desperately loud. Dean sucked in heavy breath, after heavy breath, feeling the air settle in his lungs, fill them up like the sweetest song. 

"Dean!" Castiel's voice cut through the haze, shaking the fog out of Dean's head.

"S'up?" Dean croaked.

"Dean!" Sam had joined in on the supposed buzzword of the day: Dean's name.

"S'mmy y'too, christ," Dean hacked a laugh, rolling slightly on the pitching board. "Y'akay."

"Don't blaspheme," Castiel stated thinly, a smile tugging at his voice, and Dean struck a hand up, flailing in the air, until it made contact with soaking hair, spiky and short. Dean's fingers tightened like claws, gripping reassuredly into the wet curls.

"Cass," Dean's laugh grew shakier, rattling like bones in his throat. "Christ."

* * *

Dean tapped the festive umbrella resting against the side of the hollowed out pineapple. He'd had drinks like this before, but none this fresh, and none accompanied by fire-dancing. David Kawena was deft, but careless, and Dean had a feeling he might have been able to give him a run for his money. At least if Dean was feeling like wearing a silly costume.

"And that's the Hawai'ian Chicken Burger for you," Nani's sarong swished as she set the plate down in front of Dean. "And the Shrimp Curry, Hawai'ian style for you." 

"Thanks," Sam grinned at her.

"Sure I can't get you anything?" Nani nodded at the largely untouched piña colada Dean had ordered for Castiel, and the angel glanced up at her.

"That will not be necessary," Castiel returned his attention to the pumice rock that Sam had purchased. Dean grinned as Nani swished away, and tapped his cocktail umbrella again. "So, you said you sent one of these off-island?"

"Just... just to the bunker," Sam frowned. "For testing."

"I knew I should have taken you with me to get the snow cones," Dean frowned, and picked his burger up, sniffing the pineapple with interest. "Think that's why the siren went to grab Sam?"

"Pudge," Castiel corrected.

"Pudge isn't a fish?" Dean blinked.

"Who's Pudge?" Sam looked between the two of them, and Castiel gave a one-armed shrug, as though he were uncertain exactly how to explain.

"Lilo pays a food offering to Pudge the fish every Thursday," Castiel took a quiet sip through the bright pink straw his drink had come with. Dean found everything on the island to be some offensive colour. Offensively dark water, offensively bright greens, offensively sweaty sunlight, those aloha shirts and even his mini umbrella was a rude yellow and orange colour. "The creature we encountered was the one she has been paying tribute to."

"Except Pudge was a fish," Dean swallowed his oversized bite of burger, and picked at the sweet potato on his plate. "That was definitely not a fish."

"No," Castiel agreed. "Pudge it seems, is a form for the Goddess Nakama."

"What? Pele's big sister is the one making the house calls?"

"Apparently," Sam leaned forward over his curry, rummaging through the shrimp. "Good news then," Sam tossed a smart phone towards Dean. "Nakama we can gank."

"Now we're talking," Dean eyed the page. "A stake made of pumice rock?"

"From the island we're taking her out on."

"Again," Castiel interrupted. "I do not suggest you take this course of action. Nakama is also on her own ground; it was difficult enough fending her away this time. I have no desire to attempt again."

"Well, unless we start hearing some other suggestions," Dean shoveled another bite of burger. "We're going stabby mc stab stab on her scaly ass."

"Perhaps we can negotiate with her?" Castiel suggested cautiously.

"You saw her right?" Dean put his burger down. "That was a whole fishy woman of stonecold crazy and pointy teeth," Dean shook his head. "We go in there to chat, and we'll be sleeping with the damn fishes."

"Fish," Sam frowned.

"Fish, fishes, fishies, Nemo, I don't care," Dean slammed his fist on the table. "We are gonna take Nakama out on ice."

"Stitch! Stitch!" Lilo yanked on Castiel's sleeve, and the angel peered at her. "The manager here is a vampire!"

"Indeed?" Castiel glanced up towards the man Lilo was pointing towards.

"Yuh-huh, he's always frowning."

"I also frequently frown."

"You're an angel thoug-"

"Hey squirt," Dean reached out to pat the girl on the head. "Alright if I talk to Cass for a second?" Lilo nodded, leaning back and forth on her feet. "Alone?" Lilo continued to bounce on her heels, until Dean gave a conspiratial wink.

"Ohh!" She winked back, a huge gesture, accompanied by a huge grin.

"What was that about?" Sam peered after Lilo as she trotted happily away.

"Who knows," Dean glared at Castiel. "You told her you were an angel?"

"No," Castiel said firmly. "She guessed."

"She- she guessed?" Dean scoffed. "And she's been paying sacrifice to a fucking goddess."

"She sounds like she just has an over-active imagination," Sam put in. "The manager isn't a vampire, I saw him in the post office in the middle of the day."

"So she - what - just guessed Cass was an angel, and her fish friend was a god?"

"Maybe with some latent psychic abilities," Sam shrugged.

"She is fully human," Castiel added. "And without guile."

"Ugh, alright," Dean waved a hand, "What's the plan with Nakama? Do we, I dunno, lure her to the shallows, net her Pirates of the Carribean 4 style, and stab her proper?"

"Net her, really?" Sam rolled his eyes, but as he spoke, Castiel nodded.

"We would need a net made locally, but yes, that could work," Castiel looked between the two brothers, and frowned uncertainly, "I'm sorry, were you being sarcastic, Dean?"

"Hah, not if it could work," Dean grinned. "Let's go bag us a pagan and serve her up with tartare sauce."

"I still think negotiation would be a better tactic," Castiel insisted. "Inciting the Island's Pantheon cannot be the ideal strategy."

"Hey, Dean, we don't even know why Nakama is funny about Pele's rocks," Sam frowned.

"Mermonster," Dean pulled his drink towards him and took a slurp of it. He looked at both of them incredulously, "Mermonster! Did you guys not see that thing almost drown me? Mermonster."

* * *

Dean toed the inky ocean, as it clawed quietly at his feet, and looked over to Sam who was adjusting the weight of the stake. Pumice stone - of all stone - had to be the kind that could float, so Sam was tying weights to the handle of the makeshift weapon. Irritated at the idea of taking a dip in the Nakama-infested water at night, Dean peeled his jacket off.

"I am really not sure this is the best idea," Castiel murmured to himself, but toed his shoes off. Sam passed him the stake.

"Yeah, yeah, we talked this over," Dean stepped out into the water, hefting the net. Castiel and Sam edged in to the sides of him, flashlights combing the water. "I doubt Nakama will be chilling out in the shallows."

"Yeah, I'll get on it," Sam waded out deeper into the water.

"Hee-ey, Nakanakanaka?" Dean called, kicking at the waves as he walked further into the ocean.

* * *

"I think she might be a no-show," Sam frowned as they marched, soggy and shivering back to shore.

"Yeah, that's good Sam," Dean nodded, snickering to himself. "Tempt fate and all, I bet Nakama isn't going to turn up at all, that'll bring her out, we definitely won't get our ankles pulled as we-"

A sharp finned hand shot out, pulling Dean and Sam back into the water, as Castiel wheeled round, pulling the net out of the water where Dean had dropped it. There was a slucking, glugging noise and splashes as Dean and Sam kicked in the shallow water, and all through it, Dean was laughing his heart out.

"That's right, bitch!" Dean grinned through the frothing water, eyes somewhat too bright. "Murphy's fucking la-" Dean was dunked, pulled up by the feet.

Castiel shoved the net over the pagan, and hefted the stake, looking more uncertain by the second. Far from feeling cold, he felt sickly hot. A tail whipped out of the edge of the net, and knocked Castiel clean off his feet, sending him tumbling into the water. Sam had managed to pry himself loose once Nakama had been netted, and crawled up to his feet. Dean gave a few kicks at the Goddess, and sat up in the shallow water, coughing water.

"Cass," Dean called out. "A stake about now would be good?"

"I can't find it!" Castiel yelled back, running his hands along the sandy floor. 

"You're joking?"

Castiel clenched his fingers about the pumice stake, thanking his father once again for the wise decision to include the relatively capable underwater grip humans possessed. The sickening heat licked the inside of his ribs once more, as he dragged the stake from the waves, searching quickly in the darkness for Nakama's writhing shape.

"My sister will burn you!" The voice was high, commanding, arrogant; exactly the sort of thing Dean would like to shut up quickly. There was a tug of fire in the pit of his stomach, and Castiel lurched to his feet.

"Yeah, we met your sister, good terms, practically hugs and kisses," Dean kicked out again at Nakama. Another spatter of fire hissed through Castiel.

"I will drown you!" Nakama insisted. "My brothers and sisters will rise up and consume your bones!"

"Yes, yes, vendetta," Dean agreed, meeting Castiel's eyes - pausing over them - and then looking at the pagan with wide eyes.

"Fine," Nakama spat. "Haole, get it done." The pagan settled on her haunches, lips and skin drying and crackling out the water, putting the gleam of her blue speckles out.

"Why?" Castiel demanded.

"Why anything?" Nakama licked her lips - her tongue bright gleaming blue in her mouth, and far, far too long. 

"Why have you been drowning na haole?" Castiel repeated, hovering away from the pagan, stake held carefully in his hand.

"Stealing my sister," Nakama hissed under her breath. "It burns."

"Your sister Pele?" Sam peered at her.

"Use," Nakama raised a drying fin to indicate the stake. "Da kine."

Castiel tossed the stake towards Sam, and hunkered down next to Dean. He pulled Dean to his feet, and Dean felt the air cool where soaking clothes hit air. Castiel staggered sloshily in the water at the flash-fire, "Your family comes after us if we hunt you?"

"Sure," Nakama jutted her chin upwards. "This is our land."

Castiel motioned for Sam to drop the stake, "What have you done to us?"

"You brought the intent with you," Nakama bared her rows of teeth. "That's your business."

"What?" Dean demanded. "Like those tourists brought their intent with them?"

Nakama rounded on Dean, shifting in the shallow water, "They took Pele with them; she's my sister," Nakama's mouth was razor sharp, piercing, teeth glinting like encrusted shards of salt.

"Why are you attacking now?" Sam tossed the stake into the shallows and Dean gaped at him.

"Cut me loose," Nakama pulled on the net, trying to untangle her hair and frail fins from it.

"Why are you attacking now? People have been taking rocks for years," Sam repeated. "Only seven people have taken pumice from Hawai'i?"

"From Kauai'i," Nakama stated testily. "Thirteen have taken - I drown later, you came to my sea first," Nalama pulled on the net once more.

"But why now?"

"My sister and I have a quarrel," Nakama clawed at the net. "I can't stand to see her dismiss the insults whilst we fight."

Castiel pulled his angelblade and carefully cut through the net, "Speak with her, and do not kill again."

"Or what?" Nakama stated moodily, and then looked over to Dean. "Family is complicated, I can't just speak with her," Finally free, Nakama flipped over in the shallows, and stretched out in the water. Castiel pulled Dean to his feet, walking them both away from Nakama, but she was already flickering into the shallows.

"You two!" Dean rounded on them. "You couldn't have taken her out?!"

"You would have died," Castiel insisted. "The bind is burning," Castiel frowned, mouth thin. "I can survive it, but you cannot," Castiel had a strained expression. "Stop pulling at the bind - it's scalding you."

Dean blinked, "I'm not pull-"

"Your body temperature has risen further," Castiel watched Dean roll his eyes. "We need a different solution to attacking this goddess - this is her territory, and the mana responds to her."

"She's going to kill more people!"

"She requires a mediator," Castiel set off back towards the shore. "This is as it was between Michael and Lucifer, and is preventable."

"Another divine family pissing match?" Dean stomped, clothes water-logged. "Why the hell should we put up with-"

"Dean, we can't just kill a local," Sam snapped. "Especially if it's getting a bit too hot here, right?"

"So we're tolerating this crap?"

"Yes," Castiel repeated firmly, not meeting Dean's gaze. "We have an alternative to simply killing her, and more than one reason to take it," Castiel toyed with his blade for a moment, weighing it in his hand. "My family has been torn apart through in-fighting, and yours all but," Castiel flicked his angelblade away. "I will not stand idly by, nor will I bring chaos down on Heaven through my lack of patience, or," Castiel finally looked back, fixing Dean with an icy glare. "Yours."

* * *

"You can't carry your family forever," Dean informed Castiel as he hung his shirt over the bathroom door. He scratched absently at the devil's trap on his chest, before eying the angel. The heat continued to bubble up through his spine, like a molten slip of metal, "You do know that?"

"I will practice such advice when you do," Castiel responded coldly.

"Yeah well, how about you lead by example, Choir boy," Dean snapped.

"Will you two quit fighting?" Sam interrupted. 

"Whatever," Dean scowled, stalking over towards his bed, "How long have we got until the entire cloud castle goes to fucking shit over it all?"

"Three more days, perhaps," Castiel frowned, and leaned right back in the chair, staring at the ceiling in disdain.

"You can't, like, pray a message along?"

"Angels don't pray to other angels," Castiel frowned. "We have angel radio."

"Which isn't letting you make outgoing calls," Dean rolled his eyes, feeling sweat run down his back.

"Well, what if we prayed?" Sam was in full-on problem solving mode, and Dean sighed expressively in answer.

"Already tried - turns out they screen our calls."

"You're kidding?" Sam looked at Castiel, who shrugged an arm.

"Heaven has decided it is in their best interests to avoid you two."

"Apparently we're more trouble than we're worth, especially now Mike and Lucy are in the pit," Dean settled down on the edge of his bed. "Set it up once Metatron got his wings clipped."

"Okay, well," Sam clicked his fingers. "Can you text someone?" Castiel looked up at Sam, frustration clear on his features. "Yeah okay, angels don't do phones."

"Would you if you were all-" Dean gestured at his head. "Hooked up there?"

"Yeah, I guess," Sam drooped. "What happens when it all goes bad?"

"Boom," Dean flopped back on the bed. "So you said something about mediation, Cas, how'd you go about negotiating with a divine domestic?"

"Hi'iaka?" Sam perked up, and looked round the room. Dean peered at him from his place lying on the bed.

"Gesundheit?"

"Pele and Nakama's sister," Sam glanced at them both, pulling his laptop towards him. "Hi'iaka, could she mediate? Like there's precedent in the mythos."

"Can't hurt to talk - hell, we talked with Pele and Nakama," Dean stretched out. "How do you summon this twisted sister?"

"Uh," Sam tapped at a few keys, "Looks like local ingredients, lehua flowers, I think those are cursed but-"

"I will manage this," Cas stood up to twist the laptop round, he scanned it for a moment. "Text me if Dean worsens?"

"Worsens?" Dean snorted. "I feel like I'm being barbecued, how much worse can it get?" He rolled up, "I am however taking a freakin' shower, since we're done planning."

* * *

Dean couldn't sleep - the heat was clawing at his lungs, hotter and burning deeper than the attempted drowning had. It scorched fiercely enough that it left Dean cold, and sweating, twisting in his sheets, and getting up to repeatedly fuss with the air condition. Each time he did so, Castiel would meet his eyes, but otherwise sat quietly by. Sam had protested Dean's movements at first, but finally given in to exhaustion, falling asleep, as Dean continued to be incredibly uncomfortable.

"Dean," Castiel interrupted finally.

"Oh, when'd you get back?" Dean blinked, heat lashing out at his insides and curling into his toes. He turned back to the aircon, and shoved it down a few more notches.

"Some time ago. The air conditioning will not help with the temperature," Castiel got to his feet, and pushed Dean backwards until he'd dropped onto the bed. "The binding spell is changing your perception of your own internal temperature, rather than physically altering it," Castiel cocked a head, looking down at Dean. "You would most likely be dead if you are the temperature, I suspect you feel."

"Turn the aircon up, then," Dean grumbled. "Sam's gotta be shaking."

"I have been doing so each time you lowered the settings."

Dean eyed the angel, thinking round the solid thoughts in his head, and digesting them carefully, "You're burning up too."

"Yes," Castiel shifted on the spot, and yanked the bind. It ran hot and cold, and he pulled away from it, wings struggling for a moment. "It is uncomfortable, I am sorry, but I do not know how to relieve it."

"We're sure the bind isn't Pele's?" Dean laughed under his breath. "It's like a fucking volcano in my stomach right now."

"Pele would have claimed it," Castiel sighed, sitting down on the bed next to Dean, dropping his head forward in thought. Dean could see Castiel's hair sticking to his nape, plastered to his skin with damp, and across Castiel's forehead, his hair coiled in sweaty curls; Dean wondered how he's missed it before.

"Nakama then?"

"Possibly," Castiel hedged. "She seems displeased with us, but it was certainly our intent to kill her that set this off."

"That sucks," Dean commented with a low whistle.

"It does suck," Castiel agreed, and Dean focused on watching the rise and fall of Sam's shoulders. Coiled past the fiery sensation was the sudden cool - even freezing - protective feeling, ranging somewhere from desperate to terrified. Some nasty response to whatever lifestyle he'd had up to this point, and all it bred was this cooling, ice age feeling that he'd sooner stuff Sam in a glass coffin like Snow freakin' White than manage without him. 

Probably not healthy.

The fire abated under the feeling, and Dean glanced over at Castiel, "Hey Cass, what is this bind?"

Castiel pulled the bind quietly, frowning, "A link to the island."

"That sets you on fire when you piss off a mermonster?"

"It is a volcanic island," Castiel rubbed his forehead pensively, "The mermonster was a local goddess, and we plotted to murder her."

Dean swallowed sharply, and it actually hurt a little, warm and tight in his mouth. Yes, they had gone to Nakama planning to fry her up crispy, but that was what they did. The pagan had been as unrepentant as they ever were; alien and self-righteous.

"Well she deserves it," Dean snapped. "She drowned people for taking souvenirs. Fuck, that's harsh. Those kids - Nadine, Lucas? - they were in love, they deserved better."

"They did," Castiel agreed. "But souvenirs are not as simple as you seem to want to believe."

"What's wrong with souvenirs?"

"Dean, it was falsely believed that the Mayan Calender predicted the apocalypse for the 21st December 2012," Castiel looked up at Dean, who blinked at the subject change, but took it in stride.

"Yeah, where were those morons when 2010 came knocking?" Dean grinned uncomfortably. "I remember that though, whole thing on the internet."

"It was not even an accurate date by the Mayan Calender and certainly it did not imply an End of Days," Castiel shook his head. "However errantly, many people believed this to be an event that would occur, and flocked to Tikal in Guatemala, which is of course the largest extant Mayan Urban Center-"

"What's your point?" Dean blinked curiously at Castiel, settling back on the bed.

"Many of these tourists decided to climb The Temple of Masks, but as it is quite fragile, and not sturdy enough for climbers, there has been irrepairable damage," Castiel sighed sadly. "The priests at the temple were glad of people to join in the celebrations, but in ignorance and selfishness, outsiders destroyed a historical relic."

Dean hummed under his breath, "Doesn't mean they deserve to be killed."

"To steal what belongs to others, and bring harm through ignorance, and inability to understand," Castiel frowned. "There is much I do not understand about human customs, and I am glad to be welcome to them, but I would be a fool to not tread lightly."

"What?" Dean scoffed. "You think you're going to cause a political meltdown over your misunderstanding of Looney Toons or flirting?"

"The restaurant we went to this evening is an example," Castiel continued boredly. "Tourism has been harmful to the local culture, it exploits it and misuses it through capitalism."

"So the downfall of Hawai'i is Fakey Luau Restaurants, huh?" Dean demanded.

"Dean, I am glad we did not murder Nakama on this land," Castiel said fiercely. "It would be unclean."

Dean pulled at his collar, and felt it stick to his skin, the cotton prickling as he lifted it away, "Yeah, well, tomorrow we've got a date with her sister Hicky."

"Hi'i'aka," Castiel corrected absently, and got to his feet. The angel was still sweating buckets, but where Dean could smell his own sweat, acrid and unpleasant in the air, Castiel was pulling off his immaculate B.O again. Dean wrinkled his nose, but watched Castiel stretch out slightly, shirt clinging to his arms and back.

"You should get out of those clothes," Dean advised. "Comfier."

"It will not affect my perception of the heat," Castiel frowned. 

"Yeah, but who wants clothes sticking to them?" Dean peeled his shirt off, sniffing it in disgust. He tossed it to the floor. "Your sweat doesn't even smell right, it's all like peppermint tea and spring breezes."

Castiel shifted on the spot, before retaking his seat across the room, "I apologize for not smelling right."

"Nah, it's nice," Dean laughed. "Pisses me off."

"That's a strange reaction," Castiel commented.

"Piss off," Dean laughed harder, the sound tight and burning in his lungs. He winced, "When is this fire going to let off?"

"Perhaps never," Castiel scowled. "I will research the binding spell as you sleep."

" _If_ I can sleep," Dean flopped back on the bed, already forming a gross wet patch at the small of his back.

"I'll watch over you," Castiel offered, and Dean cracked a single eye open to lazily bitchface at the angel.

"Like hell," Dean mumbled.

* * *

Dean woke twisted in sweat and sheets and that ghastly realization he had wriggled out of his underwear in his sleep. Groaning, he rolled up, feeling the cool soaking of the sheets. Dean curled over himself, dragging the sheet over his lower body, and licked his lips.

"Drink," Castiel pressed a cup towards Dean. "You are very dehydrated."

"Shit, Cass," Dean scrambled for the sheet, and Castiel indicated the cup again, "Uh, thanks," Dean took it and took a sip, and then a heavy gulp. Castiel seized the base of the cup, tipping it back until Dean couldn't guzzle it all in one go. "Leggo, Cass."

"If you drink too quickly, you will make yourself sick," Castiel told Dean, and let go of the cup. This time Dean made a conscious effort not to completely inhale it. Not completely, and Castiel frowned in obvious disappointment, which he seemed to dismiss with a frustrated half eye-roll. Dean laughed, imagining the sort of prayers Castiel might say: to my deadbeat daddy, may you save me from such fools.

"Hey, I'm not burning up," Dean grinned, and stretched, basking in the cool air, before coiling up again to adjust the sheet. "Uh, so when did the fire go out?"

"Just over half an hour ago," Castiel took the empty cup back and refilled it quickly, bringing it back to Dean. "Sam has left to deal with Hi'i'aka."

Dean spluttered on his drink, setting it to the side with a flail, and clutched the sheet round him as he staggered from the bed, "What? On his own?"

"Yes," Castiel stepped into Dean's space, trying to angle Dean to sit back down. "You have been losing fluids rapidly, even with your body's reduced sweat response," Castiel glowered at Dean. "I have been keeping you level, but we need to replace needed minerals," Castiel looked a touch wry, "I am unsure how to do so with grace," Castiel stepped forward again, and Dean jutted his chin up warningly, crossing his arms over his chest. 

"We need to get to Sam," Castiel abruptly looked off to the side, head snapping to the wall. "What's up?"

Castiel coughed, "Given the bind has soothed, I believe Sam successfully arranged an intervention between the Goddesses.'

"Look at me," Dean growled, and Castiel twisted his head towards Dean, but continued to settle his gaze thoroughly elsewhere. "Cass?" Castiel gave another cough, clearly deliberate, and Dean realized a little uncertainly, that angels didn't cough. Glancing down at himself, Dean gave an embarassed and nervous grin, "Sorry buddy," Flushing, Dean snagged the sheet with his fingertips and sat back on the bed. His head gave a playful spin, and Dean leaned back on his hands. "Didn't know angels were such prudes."

"I was trying to be respectful," And Castiel's gaze flicked to Dean, razor-sharp and unapologetic. Dean shifted under it, as Castiel acquired an energy drink and small bag of cashews. "Drink, eat."

"I love a man who knows how to take control," Dean quipped, still feeling disconcerted.

"Shut up," Castiel ordered. "Drink, eat."

* * *

"Dean," Sam greeted perkily as he crashed into the room with milkshakes. "Glad you're up and about."

"In my next life I'm coming back as an angel," Dean laughed. "Nice-smelling sweat, teleporting, not ending up in a sweaty ball of pathetic when there's shit to do."

"You'd make a terrible angel," Castiel said pointedly. "I also don't think it's possible for you to be reborn as an angel, but then-"

"Cass," Dean cut over. "Joke."

"Ah," Castiel nodded, and returned his attention to the binding spell. He pulled and worried at it, felt it flare up briefly, but return to the low heat he'd been growing worryingly accustomed to. Wings shuffling in the spell, Castiel tried to open them out, and the binding gripped painfully. "The binding spell is no less powerful than when we first arrived," Sam's face dropped. "But the reaction it had on our attack of Nakama has abated."

"Thus how Dean is up and about?" Sam passed a milkshake to Dean, and then another to Castiel.

"Rub it in, alright," Dean scowled. "I say we have another chat with Nakama - an actual chat, Cass, stow the sourface - just to... you know clear things up."

* * *

Nakama was less than impressed to be disturbed a third time, but happily coiled up in the shallows, watching them for movements. She apparently was not feeling like being generous with her trust, the stake and net weighing on her immortal mind. "I said it was your business," Her tail lashed in the water, marks glowing in slow succession. "That is not my bind."

"But it is local," Castiel insisted. "It responded to our attack on you."

Nakama's milky eyes focused on Castiel, and she frowned, "It's the island's, not mine, I cannot tell you how to break it," She looked between them, before flicking her tail lightly and shifting round to dive back into the depths. Dean made to go after her, but Sam gripped him by the arm, shaking his head. 

"Let her go," Sam frowned, shielding the sun from his eyes as he looked up. A seagull whirled over head noisily, and they all tracked its movements for a moment. Finally they clambered back towards the shore, heading for the cape and the sounds of gleeful tourists. As they rounded it, Lilo spotted Castiel and darted over. The two of the dawdled back, discussing what Dean was fairly sure was cephalopods.

"Never would have picked him for a kid person," Dean nodded his head back at Castiel.

"I think it's the fish out of water thing they bond over," Sam grinned, and Dean gave him a friendly shove for the terrible pun. "Thanks for saving my ass back there."

"S'what I do," Dean stuffed his hands in his pockets, and looked back to smile vaguely at Castiel. "Just as well Castiel's grace sorted the merkiss out."

Castiel however, had fallen still, and was staring intently in the distance. Dean patted Sam's arm and they both peered off to see what Castiel was looking at. By the surf shed, Nani and David were chatting amicably - friendly even. Dean narrowed his eyes, overfriendly.

"They finally went on a date," Lilo popped up at Dean's side, beaming. "I've been saying since forever that it's about time - he asked her out two days ago at work, I know, I was there."

"Yeah?" Dean scratched his chin, and gave Lilo a pat on the head. "Good for them."

"Dean," Castiel caught Dean by the sleeve, and glanced at Lilo who peered between them.

"More alone time?" Lilo asked suspiciously, before shoving at Sam. "Get out, get out, we have to let them talk!"

"But I think-" Sam stuttered.

"Come on Hulk!"

"Cass?" Dean watched Lilo drag Sam off down the beach. "We can fill Sam in later, I'm just glad we don't have tatertot listening in."

"Nani and David were bound and now they are not."

"Sounds like everything is coming together for them," Dean looked back at the two. "Romance and no magic crap. So how did they get that curse off them? Obviously it can be done."

"I'm not sure," Castiel tipped his head to one side.

"Possible it just wore off?" Dean frowned. "I gotta hope there's a ritual and it's not a waiting game - you've got Heaven on your back."

"Nani did not possess the bind when we first met her," Castiel clarified. "I believe that is why we were led to the Pelekai household, the bind was selecting her."

"So between surfing and today, Nani - at least - got herself off the hook," Dean nodded. "Anyway we can find out what Nani was up to over the last twenty-four hours."

"That also involves David?" Castiel gave Dean a wry look. "I believe Lilo has already told us - obviously the date triggered a ritual."

"The date?" Dean blinked. "A date?"

"Human dates involve many rituals," Castiel stated boredly. "It is possible a normal date in Kaua'i also involves a supernatural ritual."

"You go to the movies, eat some popcorn and raisinets, make out in the back," Dean grumbled. "Or just tumble about in a motel, I don't see what's so ritualistic there."

"If by tumble you mean sexual intercourse, that can easily trigger many rituals, especially if one or more parties is virginal," Castiel shrugged. "Many pagans have particularities for sexually chaste sacrifices."

"So, what, hey Nani did you or David sacrifice a goat before you rolled in the hay?" Dean snorted. "There's no way I can ask them about their date," Dean thought for a moment, "Lilo mentioned she had Nani's diary, think you can get a hold of that?"

"No," Castiel shook his head. "It is the source of her power."

"The souce of her- fucking hell Cass."

"I can, however, ask her for those details," Castiel set off down the beach, and Dean trailed after, shaking his head in disbelief.

* * *

Lilo slapped the diary down between them on the patio, flipping through to the latest entry, "I need to put the book back before she gets home."

"I understand," Castiel nodded and reached for the book, but Lilo pulled it across the table towards her. Looking at Castiel through narrowed eyes, she scanned down the book page with her fingertip.

"So you want to know about my sister's date?" Lilo began clearly. "Why?"

"In order to prevent Heaven from being torn apart by internal conflict," Castiel replied, once again trusing honesty to be the ideal policy with Lilo. The girl responded well to sincerity, and rather poorly to lies - it was a surprising shift from the types of interactions he had seen from Dean and Sam, and refreshing at that. 

"And my sister's date will stop all that?" Lilo asked suspiciously.

"Yes," Castiel answered openly.

"Okay then," Lilo looked down the page. "But you owe me - big time!" Lilo tapped a section of the page, "They had dinner at Barbeque Inn," Lilo looked up. "That's on Kress Street by the way."

"Thank you," Castiel blinked. "I don't suppose what they ate was recorded."

"Nuh-uh, but Nani always gets chicken teriyaki, brown rice, one taro roll and a chocolate macademia cream pie from there," Lilo recited the menu, almost bored by it. "She's so picky!"

"And to drink?"

"I dunno, adult stuff, her usual, I said she was picky," Lilo flipped the page. "Then they went for a looong walk on the beach, right?"

"How long?"

"So many," Lilo shrugged.

"So many... of long," Castiel paused and shook his head. "Which beach?"

"The one near Kress," Lilo nodded. "The staff know it, just ask," Lilo tapped down the page. "Then they kissed for ages as the sun went down."

Suggesting kissing to Dean would go down well, Castiel was sure. The hunter had clearly been expecting something like actually sacrificing a goat, or at least something more pagan than what - as far Castiel knew - was a fairly pleasant date. However, Castiel could see nothing terribly pagan about the matter, although some fey creatures used kisses for spellwork. An example was Nakama's own attack on Dean. Nevertheless, Castiel only had a pleasant evening meal, a somewhat romantic walk and a certainly romantic kiss session to report thus far.

Castiel coloured at the thought of trying to explain the ritual to Dean, or worse, if there was more Castiel would have to report. Frowning, Castiel asked, "How long is ages?"

"Lots?" Lilo wrung her hands. "Why is Heaven so creepy?"

"I don't know, Lilo," Castiel looked sheepish. "Details can be very important."

"It was late when Nani got back in," Lilo suggested. "To walk back, they'd probably have kissed for about fifteen minutes."

Castiel blanched, "There was nothing else?"

"No, that's the date," Lilo flipped the pages back and forth. "They talked about me a lot, and family?"

Castiel nodded, "Thank you, I think that will be all," Standing up uncertainly, trying to consider how to explain the domestic ritual to Dean. Not to mention the fifteen or so minutes that might be required of it. Castiel shook his head in displeasure, and hoped the ritual was in the taro roll.

* * *

Dean pulled his taro roll in half, and bit into it neatly, before poking at the chicken teriyaki in front of him, "I think I'd have preferred kalua pua'a thing," He muttered darkly, and Castiel glared at him fiercely. "Yeah yeah, ritual calls for teriyaki, I know, I know," Suspicious Minds played idly in the background, and Dean bobbed his head in time to the drum line, "Love this song." 

They were sitting opposite each other in a small restaurant that had been damn hard to find. Dean hefted the chopsticks once more - of course he'd been offered a fork, and had politely declined. He wasn't sure how he did it, but he seemed to give off the smell of painfully white guy at most eating establishments. Might have been all that red meat he went for. Dean was just happy that both Nani and David drank alcohol, or he'd have been really stuck. Luckily, Sam had asked Nani about her favourite drink to get at the restaurant in question, so Dean actually got to drink it: some local favourite beer, not bad either. Otherwise, Sam had just been a total ass of course, making sure Dean was well-dressed for his ritual (aka brighter than an archangel in his shirt) and had shoved Dean out the door, before settling back to watch some documentary on volcanoes on his laptop.

Dean looked up at the angel across the table from him. Castiel was deep in thought, probably pulling at his own binding again, and picked at his food. Castiel had tried a few mouthfuls of everything, proclaimed it delicious upon questioning, and then taken to ignoring his food. Except to fiddle with it, eyes fixed low to the table.

"So what's in this ritual anyway?" Dean had another bite of the roll.

"Huh?" Castiel looked up. "Oh, a few steps," Castiel returned his attention to the table. "I'm not sure how much of it is required for the ritual."

"That why you look like you're mentally torrenting all of Friends?" Dean smirked.

"I don't understand," Castiel stated quietly.

"You look like you're focused on the binding," Dean clarified.

"Ah," Castiel nodded. "We must talk about our families."

"What?"

"How is your brother?"

Dean stared at Castiel like he'd grown another head, but settled down, returning to his meal, "Uh," Dean swallowed a mouthful of rice. "About the same since you saw him, you know, like twenty minutes ago," Dean took another bite, "So he may have jumped off a cliff since then, but I'm pretty sure he's fine."

"That's good to hear."

"Yeah," Dean coughed. "What about your dickhead family?"

"They have been demanding I fly to Heaven immediately," Castiel hummed. "Unfortunately, I still cannot contact them to let them know I am fine; they suspect I may be kidnapped, or perhaps dead. They have been combing your usual locations."

"I still can't figure out why they want you in charge up there," Dean shook his head and then grinned sheepishly, "Not that you wouldn't be a good kingpin or whatever."

"I'd be terrible," Castiel agreed. "A civil war is one thing, actual leadership is something I am not cut out for."

"Yeah, we did see that," Dean mumbled, waving his chopsticks placatingly. "Uh," Castiel shrugged his left arm in acceptance. "So, why are they hankering for you to pick up the slack?"

"Angels don't much care for leading," Castiel frowned. "Thus why I am extremely reluctant to lead - angels prefer to take orders."

"Yeah, well," Dean frowned, picking at his food. "You shouldn't take orders from people, you're, you know, better than that."

Castiel sighed, rolling his eyes quietly, "I prefer multiple choice questions."

"You and me both."

"No, you prefer to throw the test through the window."

"There is that," Dean set his chopsticks down, and looked at Castiel quite seriously, "So what are you going to do?"

Castiel tipped his head at Dean, "About Heaven?"

"You've been trying to hold off on answering them about the leader thing, but," Dean nudged the edge of his chopsticks uncertainly, "You will have to answer eventually."

"Then I suppose I will say yes eventually," Castiel looked back down at the table. "This situation may have pushed the matter to breaking point."

"Yeah," Dean picked up his chopsticks slowly, "I'm sorry about that, it was just meant to be, you know, you'd drop us off and fly off."

"I know," Castiel voice was soft with understanding, and he nodded at Dean's food. "We will need to eat Chocolate Macademia Cream Pie soon, or we will not begin our walk at the right time."

"Alright, pie and a walk," Dean grinned, and shovelled another bite of teriyaki in his mouth. "Hey, maybe the pie is the magic part of it. Pie is pretty magic."

* * *

Dean dug into the cream pie eagerly, rushing through it and struggling to savour it at the same time, "Holy crap this is good pie, Cass," Dean looked up to see Castiel take two bites and then push the pie across the table towards him. "Oh come on, this is good pie."

"It is," Castiel nodded in confirmation. "But I don't need to eat it."

"Come on," Dean dug his fork into Castiel's pie, and brought it to his mouth. "I'll eat it all if you let me, I don't need those kinds of calories or whatever."

"You're fine," Castiel reassured and Dean scowled at the angel.

"I'm not a chick," Dean scooped up another forkful of pie, and proferred it to Castiel. "Neither are you, skinny butt, come on," Castiel turned his face away, and Dean dabbed the pie chunk against Castiel's cheek. "Come on." Castiel wiped the pie off his face, the gesture almost aggressive, as he glared at the chocolate cream on his fingertips. "Cass, come on, eat up," Castiel stuck his two fingers in his mouth, sucking the chocolate off them, and redirected his glare at Dean. Dean followed the movement with a low half-laugh, grinning at Castiel over the table.

Pulling his fingers loose with a pop, Castiel's glare lightened, "We need to walk in a few minutes, eat faster."

"I'd eat faster if you help?" Castiel picked his fork up again grudgingly, digging reluctantly into his pie. "Attaboy," Dean smiled at Castiel, focusing on his own pie.

* * *

"Gonna be okay taking control of Heaven?" Dean stuffed his hands in his pocket as they kicked along the beach. With the sun setting, and the sand cooling to a comfortable warmth, Dean had elected to leave his sandles in the impala, instead feeling the sand between his toes. It was nice - going to be itchy and annoying later - but for now, it was nice and easy.

"I don't think of it as taking," Castiel answered. "It has been more or less forced upon me."

"That old Shakespeare line about greatness," Dean shrugged.

"That line was not intended to be inspirational - it is part of a humorous letter," Castiel watched the lull of the ocean coming in and out, his stomach sinking with each step. Every few moments, he would direct his attention to shuffling his wings, pulling at the spell, and feeling it lace hot along his skin. 

"You gonna be alright though?"

"I imagine so," Castiel replied driftily. "I would prefer it if circumstances were different, but that is not always possible."

"You and me both," Dean sighed. "Probably the spell talking, but ever think about just running away, you know, somewhere like here?" Dean nodded towards the ocean, "Rolling beaches, good weather, shaved ice, cream pie, you know?"

"There is only so much fight in me," Castiel answered, as usual overwhelmingly frank. "I do not think I have the capacity to abandon my family again," Castiel nodded in thought. "Especially to a civil war I could prevent."

"Yeah, I get that," Dean said quietly. "Don't think I could just drop my work - gotta die in my traces like a good husky, you know?"

"You're not a husky," Castiel replied crisply.

"Yeah, it's just, I get the whole, stepping up to the plate thing," Dean shrugged. "I was asking if you ever thought about running, like I do."

"Yes, I do," Castiel sighed, digging his feet in the sand for a moment. "But obviously, I can't."

"It's a nice thought though."

"It is," Castiel glanced out towards the ocean, watching the sun bleed into the waves. He gave a good solid yank on the spell.

"You seem really out of it," Dean commented. "Spell breaking?" The spell snarled back at Castiel, and he winced back from it, staggering to the side for a fraction of a moment. Dean reached out to steady Castiel, eyes flickering between Castiel's eyes, "Cass?" Castiel made a grab at Dean's arms, pulling on him for balance and Dean leaned back into his heels to keep them even.

"I'm fine," Castiel straightened up, still holding onto Dean's forearms, pressing down on them.

"And the bind?" Dean asked anxiously, green eyes brightening hopefully, cautiously.

"There is no change," Castiel pulled Dean forward by the arms, surging forward to meet him halfway in an off-balanced, uneven kiss. Dean writhed, squirming, but he might as well have been pulling at handcuffs, as Castiel ignored the movement. Instead the angel - implacably strong, and immovable and fucking mjolnir - meticulously readjusted the position, knocking his nose on Dean's as he tried to get the kiss level. Satisfied, Castiel waited, eyes shut. Dean could see Castiel's lashes, right up there in his personal space.

Dean squawked against Castiel.

The angel let go, and Dean yanked away, kicking up sand as he backed off a few paces, "What the hell was that?"

"That is the next step of the ritual," Castiel all but yowled in frustration, and reached out for Dean, who became a flurry of resisting pushes and shoves. "Dean, stop."

"No you stop, you freaking' date rapist, what the he-"

"If I cannot break the bind, my brothers and sisters will kill each other for leadership," Castiel begged, voice rising, scraping on Dean's nerves. "Their conflict will spill out into Earth, as it did before; there will be a bloodbath!" Castiel yanked Dean back towards him, pulling him into another teeth-clicking, taunt liplock. Dean bit him, hard.

The angel had at least let go of some of his invulnerable quality, enough to allow Dean's bite to bring blood from Castiel's lip instead of breaking Dean's teeth, or shattering his jaw. Castiel withdrew, letting go of Dean again, rubbing the blood from his lip. "Dean," Castiel struggled out. "I would not do this if it wasn't necessary."

"Fucking-" Dean swore, pacing in a furious circle through the sand. Castiel made a step towards Dean, and Dean jolted back, eying Castiel viciously. "Are you seriously arguing the fate of thousands of lives rests on - what - a goddamn kiss?"

"Maybe?" Castiel gestured sharply.

"What is this a lifetime disney movie pile of crap?" Dean bared his teeth at Castiel, "And what if that doesn't work? Huh? We save the world by taking it up the ass, huh?"

"I would not force-"

"You already did," Dean kicked the sand again. "You, you, you stay there." Dean gestured at Castiel's spot on the beach, surf lapping lightly at the angel's heels. "Right, okay," Dean sucked a breath in. "No, I'm saying no, we're not doing this."

Castiel opened his mouth in argument, but shut it again with a clip of his teeth. There was blood welling at his lip again, and Castiel gave an even blink, "Alright," Castiel determined. "We will find a different solution."

Dean dug his feet into the sand, toes curling, as he let his breath steady out. He glared at Castiel, mouth a razor sharp line of dislike, but Castiel looked forlorn more than anything else. No wonder the angel had spent most of the evening being withdrawn, Dean gritted his teeth. No wonder Castiel hadn't elaborated on the rituals - he'd probably been hoping the pie had been magic. No wonder Castiel had spent more time pulling the bind, probably hoping he wouldn't have to pull Dean.

"After," Dean gestured wildly, words spilling out without the full force of Dean's brain vetting them. He'd probably have shot them down if he let himself think through them. " _That_ , after - what else is there?"

"Walk back along this coast at night," Castiel answered slowly.

Dean took another harsh breath in, let it out in a frustrated puff, "Alright, okay, okay," Dean breathed in heavily. "Fine," Dean spat the air out again, and took a step towards Castiel. "Let's do this, but," Dean frowned. "Give me some warning - what are we doing?"

Castiel froze, leaning back from Dean, "Kissing," He finally determined.

"Alright, how long?"

"Fifteen minutes."

Dean laughed, ridiculously, because fuck his life, "Then we're not kissing, Cass, we're fucking making out."

"Making out?" Castiel frowned, and took a half-step back towards the sea.

"What, you think Nani and David just sat there with their mouths shut the whole time," Dean shook his head. "Fuck, Cass, they had to be tonguing, at least."

"I did not consider-"

"Why the hell should you even," Laughter bubbled up from Dean like water from his lungs. "Just creepy thinking on it."

"Dean, we don't have to do this," Castiel decided, voice flickering uncertainly.

"Oh? Changed your mind?" Dean stalked into Castiel's space, lifting his chin up daringly as he flushed from head to toe. "Bloodbath not that bloody now?"

Castiel swallowed, "Consent is-"

"This is consent," Dean snapped, and then paused. "For making out, we are not seeing how much world saving gay sex can do, just making out," Dean tipped his head slightly, canting it curiously. "Unless you don't-" Dean took a step back from the angel, going a brighter red.

Castiel pulled Dean towards him again, stiff and each line of him clear; both hands digging into Dean's shoulders, head tipped opposite of Dean's, swallowing audibly. An economic kiss, feeling-less, closed-mouth; ineffective if a real tongue-twister was going to be needed. Dean didn't care to imagine this level of apathy being dragged into saliva and frenching. He peeled back, placing his hands on each of Castiel's wrists to push the angel back slightly. Panicking, Castiel tried to pull away, step out of Dean's space, but Dean held him there - suspended somewhere between kissing and running.

"I know you can do better than that," Dean pointed out. "What you give freakin'  _Meg_ the pizzaman special, and I'm getting this crap?"

"I apologize," Castiel mumbled, and tipped his head back to the side, leaning back in a bit too fast for Dean's liking. Dean dropped his head down, dodging the movement, and pressed into the newly formed space as Castiel pulled back. Squeezed into the spot, and grinned as he felt Castiel shiver as the ocean ran over his feet. The water lightly brushed Dean's toes, and that's exactly how Dean kissed Castiel. Kissed into Castiel. Raised his hands up to curl on Castiel's face and pressed in just enough to feel it. And there it was, clouding him; Castiel's scent not-scent, like the air after a lightning storm, humming and clear enough to leave his head ringing.

Dean gasped into Castiel, like he'd been drowning and was being wrenched out of the ocean. Like two rescue swallows of air, that Dean took open-mouthed. Like trading in broken ribs for breath.

Castiel was complacent, compliant, observant under Dean's mouth; opened his own, licked against Dean's tongue cautiously. Like he was fascinated. Intent on each molecule that composed taste and texture. Dean's fingers fanned out, scratching along the stubble and manhandling Castiel's angle, until Dean could press in, dig in and inhale Castiel. Dean adjusted his footing, feeling his feet sink warningly in the damp sand. Castiel tasted curious, interested, interested, interesting. Dean drew back, took a hurried breath back, and went back in, harder and fiercer this time, hands dropping from Castiel's face to his belt loops. Dean pulled.

Crowded into Castiel, and there's a warmth - that has nothing to do with the bind - in the core of his body, and it stoked up, flickered when Castiel crowded right back. Licking into his mouth, one hand draping over Dean's neck, brushing at the nape of it. The other hand falling to clutch at his hip bone, and then- 

It's over, mid-breath, Castiel stepped from him, leaving Dean floundering, struggling for gravity.

"Sixteen minutes," Castiel told him, and Dean blinked blindly.

"Oh, right," Dean blinked again. "Did it work?"

"No."

* * *

They'd walked back in near-silence, the occasional nervous laugh like they were obnoxious teenagers, caught in the dark of a backseat. Something else compromising, and apparently sweet; it was almost annoying. Dean had his hands stuffed into his pocket, and Castiel's stride was long and even. Dean wasn't sure when the walk back would have been completed; off the beach, near the restaurant, back at the hotel? Wasn't sure how to ask either, and was disappointed when Castiel shook his head, holding the door the room open for Dean.

"Nothing, huh?" Dean shook his head. "Well that sucks."

"Mhm," Castiel agreed, taking his spot in the chair heavily.

"Guessing the date didn't work," Sam chipped in from the couch, long legs tucked up comfortably to the side. He tapped at his laptop for a moment, before shutting it and stretching out on the couch. "Sucks for you guys."

"Yeah, well we'll figure it out," Dean rubbed the back of his neck. 

"Before or after Heaven goes psycho?" Sam frowned.

* * *

"Well," Dean swivelled the laptop round towards Castiel, "I'm going to join Sam and get some sleep," Dean stood up with a long, tired stretch of his limbs. He could feel his joints cracking and popping as he did so, and gave a toothy yawn. "S'not like we're getting anywhere huh?"

Castiel blinked, looking up at Dean, "I apologize."

Dean rubbed a hand over his face, "For what?"

"For today."

"Yeah, for what?" Dean repeated.

"Dean," Castiel gave him a sidelong look, "I do not believe you have no idea what I am referring to."

"Yeah," Dean cocked his head, "I mean it, for what? You bust open any Purgatories lately? Fly off with the word of God?"

"Ah," Castiel nodded. "You are implying it was a minor transgression."

"More or less," Dean gave a shrug and stepped over towards his bed. "Hell, I'd probably have just grabbed you and stuck my tongue down your throat too - what's one kiss to a celestial meltdown right? Didn't mean anything, it's cool," Dean glanced towards Sam's bed, and then back at Castiel with a meaningful nod, "But yeah. What happens in a ritual..."

"Stays in a ritual," Castiel finished, he gave a careful. "Of course."

"Glad we've got an understanding," Dean hopped into his bed, wriggling about, "Still," Dean paused, sitting on the bed and feeling uncommonly unsure, "A date ritual, it's not some dumbass love spell?"

"None of the components of the date negated the bind," Castiel frowned, voice a touch stiff, "Nor have either of our dispositions towards each other changed - we are simply unable to leave the island."

"Yeah, still seemed suss," Dean chuckled, "Like we'd need to gay marry to get out of here."

"I do not understand the distinction between to 'gay' marry and to marry."

"Isn't one," Dean waved a hand. "I'm being a dick. But, yeah, so not a love spell?"

"No," Castiel affirmed firmly. "Again, neither of us has had our emotions altered and the date did not dissolve the spell."

"Ritual," Dean corrected. "Not a real date or anything."

"Ritual," Castiel murmured in acknowledgment. "Good night, Dean."

"Good luck with google," There was only an answering clack of the keyboard, "Night, Cass," Dean replied with a yawn, before rolling over to block out as much of the dim laptop glow as possible. He heard the faint tapping of keys as he drifted lazily off to sleep, and snorted under his breath.

* * *

Dean woke up sticky, throat raw, and skin itching, and crawled out into the unexpected darkness of the room with a groan. Staggering towards the sink, he gave an aborted snarl of _fuck_ as he stubbed his toe on the corner of the countertop. Wincing, Dean peered round, letting his eyes adjust to the dark; Sam gave a shift, but otherwise nobody was awake. Dean poured himself out a glass, leaning against the counter as he swallowed greedily at the drink. He poured himself two more drinks before he felt halfway human, or even aware of anything except how thirsty he was.

Which was when Dean was struck with the realization that the room was dark, and nobody was awake. Setting his glass to the side, he rounded his bed again, and looked down at the unexpected guest. Castiel was sprawled into a tight and tired ball and looked thoroughly out for the count. Rubbing at the back of his neck, where it was still damp with sweat, Dean gave a long sigh and stepped towards the window. Pulling the curtains back, Dean creaked the window open and let the cool early morning air run over his face. The sun was just starting to gleam across the water, and Dean didn't want to think about how much sleep he may, or may not have had.

When the second revelation of the evening hit him sideways, and upside the metaphorical jaw. Racing back towards the kitchen, Dean yanked the last of the bacon out of the fridge, hurriedly scooping it into a ziplock bag. He gave it a shake, and checked to see if they had any spare gin - not a lick, apparently Hi'i'aka was in pagan rehab. Dean gave an irritated growl, but shut the door again. 

As he pulled the ridiculous aloha shirt on, and struggled into a pair of jeans, he stuffed the pork into his pocket, and gave Sam a good shove, "Oi Sammy."

"Is Sam," Sam groaned into his pillow, slurring tiredly round the words.

"Yeah, yeah," Dean gave Sam another shove, "I'm going to parlay with Pele again, you sit tight, and keep an eye on Cass."

Sam was alert then, gazing up at Dean frankly, as he rubbed sleep from his eyes, "Didn't she threaten to turn us to ashes if we summoned her again."

"She was bitching with her sister then, and only if we accused her, I'm just going for a talk," Dean shrugged, "And I'm gonna buy some booze for her."

"Dean," Sam warned, sitting up, and clambering out of bed, "I'm coming with."

Dean shoved Sam back into the bed, bodily manhandling his overgrown brother into the bed, "If she gets cranky, I'll placate her, alright, you're the one who called her life goddess," Dean rolled his eyes. "I need you to interview David and Nani to figure out in the heck they might have broken the bind otherwise, take Cass," Dean nodded at the angel, "Pretty sure he could use a sleep-in."

* * *

"You again?" The woman demanded as the dog chewed up the raw bacon, she inspected the fresh bottle of gin Dean had bought en route.

"Me again," Dean nodded, and gave a friendly grin, "How're you and your big sister?"

The dog glanced up and through a mouthful of bacon, laughed at Dean. On the scale of strange moments in his life, hearing a dog laugh was in the top ten, probably right next to hearing a German Shep cat-calling (was that even the right word) a poodle. The next time Sam bugged him about getting a dog for the bunker, Dean was going to personally stamp the last of this dog business out before the universe sent another sign. Maybe they could get a cat - less needy, and that might stop the soppy doggy talk. Castiel had suggested it too.

Regardless, Dean was face to face with a volcano pagan, who was both an old lady drinking back a bottle of gin, and a yappy white dog. Who was laughing at him.

"We're good, thanks for asking," The dog scratched behind its ear, "Howzit?"

"Oh you know, still caught in a fire spell," Dean half-heartedly shrugged.

"Then, you're bothering us why?" The dog snorted, "And not a fire spell."

"Yeah, you say that, but whenever we yank the leash," The dog growled. "No offence, pooch," Dean rolled his eyes, and shifted his weight to his other foot, "Feels like a supernova in my stomach. Went to gank your sister, and someone pulled the chain on the other end."

"What's that supposed to mean?" The woman bared her teeth.

"Hey, not accusing you two of anything, I said someone," He raised both hands placatingly. "But it's pretty fucking clearly a fire spell."

"Composed of fire," The dog corrected meaningfully.

"Okay, now we're getting somewhere, made of fire?"

"Well it was cast by Pele," She groused.

Dean narrowed his eyes, "So, you did-"

"Part of Pele," The dog snapped. "Not us - we deal with jilted love, and ham, not binding spells."

"Which part then?"

* * *

Castiel rolled over in the bed, and yawned, jaw clicking as he did so. The first time that had happened, he had been so surprised, that he had frozen up, hand held to his face. Apparently he had looked catatonic, as Dean had put it. It had been funny - according to Dean - but only in retrospect. At the time, Dean had waved a hand under his nose, until Castiel had snapped out of it. However, Castiel had spent long enough now with human clicks and clacks of the vessel, and ignored the sound. Instead he considered the room; Sam was already up, and milling about the room in search of socks, and Dean was nowhere to be seen. Once again he felt almost paralyzed with uncertainty.

Snapping out of it, Castiel glanced towards the alarm clock, and frowned. He had spent hours pulling, and prying at the curse, and had been truly drained when he'd crawled into Dean's bed. Too drained to correctly situate himself on the couch. Castiel could only surmise Dean had yelped out of the bed and he had simply been too tired to wake Clearly, he had slept in, and they had let him.

"Good morning," Sam greeted as he sat down on his bed, wriggling his toes as he pulled the newly acquired socks on. "We're going to Kukhkini's store, meet Dean back here later."

"Ah," Castiel shifted, looking about the room. He needn't have bothered, Dean was certainly not in the room. "Where is Dean?"

"Went off to summon Pele a few hours ago," Sam pulled his other sock on. "Apparently he's got a lead down at the Pelekai household, so we're just chasing David down."

Castiel gave a brisk nod, and got to his feet, "Are you ready to leave?"

"What about you?" Sam gestured at Castiel's clothes, which were wrinkled from sleeping in them. Castiel glanced down at himself, and gave Sam a withering look. However, the angel did change, glowering at Sam as he did so. Obviously it was making Sam uncomfortable, as he shifted and preoccupied himself with tidying his laptop up. Finally, dressed in only slightly less rumpled clothing, Castiel nodded towards the door.

"Are we ready to leave?"

Castiel's lack of patience carried through the walk - and Sam thanked his long legs that he kept up with the irritated angel - and into the store, where Castiel immediately set upon David. David had been looking through the shelves absently, looking for some non-descript item, when Cass Stitch the social worker stood unnaturally close, and demanded to know his movements after the day spent surfing. Reeling back, David stared at Sam, "Is, uh, what?" He stammered, "Is this for work?"

"No," Sam pulled Castiel away from David hurriedly, "He's just - Lilo said you and Nani got together, that's great man."

"Oh," David was still eying Castiel nervously. "Yeah, we did."

"Congratulations," Castiel said severely.

"Thanks?" David brushed his hair out of his eyes, still looking uncertain about Castiel's fierce expression.

"Have to buy you a drink," Sam glanced outside at the early light, "Or something, I mean, hell, Lilo said it took forever for you two to figure it out."

"Just seemed like the right time, known Nani for years and it just felt like," David nodded. "Like coming home, you know?"

* * *

"What did the binding spell manifest as again?" Sam frowned at Castiel, as the shop door swung shut behind them. Whatever Heaven was up to, it had made Castiel stiff, aggressive and prone to narrowing his eyes at Sam, "Something about never wanting to leave?"

"Yes, this would prevent most from leaving. However, the burning feeling would start up if they considered it more seriously, and it would physically restrain them as such," Castiel rattled off the description, and scowled, heading back to the motel at double-speed.

"So, it'd make the island home?" Sam pressed.

"Yes, that is one way of putting it," Castiel agreed after a moment. "Why?"

"And Nani and David lost their bind after they got together?"

"Yes," Castiel repeated, frustrated.

"And they knew each other for ages - years - right?"

"Yes, what does this matter?"

"I think it's a love spell," Sam blurted out. "Like, you and Dean-"

"It's not a love spell," Castiel cut over, "There has been no alteration of Dean's emotions towards me," He paused. "Nor my own for that matter."

"Not like that," Sam sighed, "Like, you need to do something couple-y to undo it."

"It did not dissipate concluding our reproduction of the ritual - which I might point out, was essentially a date."

"Yeah, I noticed," Sam shook his head. "Which was, okay, pretty funny, but I mean, more like - David said they made out - maybe you and Dean need to kiss."

"We followed the ritual as closely as possible," Castiel gritted his teeth, and continued to march for the hotel.

"As close-" Sam cut off, and gave Castiel a look over, halting mid-step. Castiel twisted back to wait for Sam, who continued to look the angel over, "You're not even kidding."

"No," Castiel answered matter-of-factedly.

* * *

Nani had been a touch taken aback at Dean's appearance - both how casually he was dressed - and that once again, she'd received no notice. Still, the house had been a lot tidier - certainly in the kitchen - as Dean glanced in on his way towards the stairs. "I'm so sorry to disturb you again," Dean apologized. "I'd just like to have a brief word with Lilo, it's really nothing to be concerned about." No matter how fiercely Dean reassured Nani, she was going to be concerned. Despite that, Nani had pushed Lilo's door open for Dean, and made her way back downstairs, still glancing back towards Lilo's room.

Dean watched until Nani had rounded the corner, before stepping into Lilo's room and shutting the door behind him. The girl was scrawling in large orange swipes, walking round her easel, and studying her work. In the background there was the faint hum of Burning Love, which the girl was tapping her toe to as she worked.

"Nice," Dean commented as he hunkered down on the steps. 

"Thanks, I've just started my orange period."

He breathed out, examining the toes of his shoes for a moment. Lilo continued to work on her large  _study in orange_ as Dean considered how to go about the matter. Finally, he decided to plough right into it, since it seemed to manage alright for just about every other situation. "When were you going to mention the deity thing?"

Lilo glanced back towards him, squinting, "Never ever."

"So you are part of Pele," Dean grimaced. "Wasn't sure until I asked."

Lilo tipped her head, peering at the orange splodge, "Maybe... red..."

"Take the damn bind off him."

Now Lilo turned round to look him dead in the eye, "Stitch?"

"His name's Castiel - he's an angel," Dean rolled his eyes. "His family is going to kick your ass when they find out you're the one who godnapped him."

"I know he's an angel, stupid head," Lilo set her hands on her hips. "I did not godnap him."

"Kidnap, leash, chain, whatever you did."

"Oh! That," Lilo snapped her fingers, "Well, that's your own fault," She returned to her drawing, picking up her paintbrush again. "Coming here like that."

"I don't care why you did it, undo it," Dean snapped. "We helped you with your sister, so you can help him with his crazy ass family."

"It's not hard," Lilo complained, peeking back at Dean. "You just stop being yellow bellies and you know, date."

Dean could have sworn he saw red, fuck the orange period, "That's why you put us under lock and key? Goddamn matchmaking?"

"Gotta keep your voice down, or my sis will come up and kick you out," Lilo reminded Dean.

Dean ground his teeth, clenched his knuckles, tensed every muscle in his body, fighting down the urge to yell and breathing like there was grit in his mouth. When he twisted his head to glare at Lilo, she was watching him with wide, stupidly childish eyes. "You came here with a  _coward_ heart," She said, words ridiculous when taken in with her young expression, "What did you expect? I'm a love and life goddess."

"Unbind him," Dean ordered, "Now."

"That's easy, just grow up and face your feelings."

"Grow up?" Dean shook his head, "You've got to grow up - you can't just force people into happy rainbow lollipop relationships."

Lilo looked offended, pulling back and behind her, the edge of the painting crinkled into fire, "I don't force anyone to do anything."

"No, you just trap them in your island paradise until they do what you want," He scowled at her. "I hate to break it to you, but sometimes people don't want to face their gooey chick-flick centers."

"Like you?" Lilo demanded.

"Yeah," Dean shrugged. "Not the point, you don't just get to decide you know better than other people."

"I'm a love goddess."

"And how's it going with Kamapu- Mr Piggly Wiggly? You can't even take pork from one side of the island to the other, what in the hell do you know about love?"

"More than you, you're still a yellow belly."

"Not the point, I'm not putting people under house arrest."

"I'm not hurting anybody," Lilo hedged. "They're happy - everybody is happy, it's love, it's not hurting anybody."

"Look, kid," Dean almost laughed, "No offence, but you seriously have no idea about love if you think it won't hurt anything."

Lilo looked rebellious, but the fire faded away slowly, "I just give a hint."

"And I got it, thanks," Dean snapped sarcastically, "Now kill the spell."

"It's done," Lilo insisted.

"Talk is cheap, h-" Dean's phone went off, and Dean flicked it open, "Hey Sam?"

"Looks like whatever was binding you and Cass stopped," Sam sounded incredibly awkward, like he was on weighing up whether or not to mention something.

"Good, he haul ass?"

"Yeah, so..." Sam trailed off. "What was the lead you were working on?"

"Eh," Dean glanced at Lilo, who was still staring sheepishly at him, "Deadend, guess it was just a matter of waiting huh?"

* * *

"You're leaving today?" Lilo wriggled her legs on the hood of the impala. How she had gotten there so quickly probably fit under talking dogs, and mermonsters, so Dean simply glanced towards the hotel room where Sam was still packing up.

"Yeah, Sam said angel airlines was expected back today," Dean leaned against the side of the impala, and glanced towards the girl, "Nani know you're out here."

"Nuh-uh," Lilo shook her head, "You have a good week?"

"It's a nice island," Dean nodded, considering the mojitos he and Sam had knocked back, and the choice waves they'd managed yesterday. Hell, Dean had even managed to pop up for a few moments, before being promptly tossed into the ocean. At least there hadn't been Pele's spooky looking sister to drag them down. Nani and David had been good company that week, and Lilo, well, "Y'know when you're not trapped here."

"I said I was sorry!"

"Yeah, I know, I'm just teasing," Dean stretched. "So, you never explained why you were all mortal."

"I wasn't gonna," Lilo grinned mischievously at Dean. "Say hi to Stitch."

Dean glanced towards her with a smirk, "Are you bribing me?"

"Maybe?" Lilo batted her eyes, and Dean snorted.

"H'alright kid, for you," Dean nodded at her. "Now what's your story."

"Oh 'bout the usual. I'm just some of the leftovers from an immortal god dying for a bit," Lilo shrugged. "I'm Passion actually."

"The Passion of Pele, sounds like a cheapass religious film."

"You're the Michael Sword; you're the cheapass religious film," Lilo tipped her head, and slid off the front of the car. "See you round, and," She eyed him firmly, and gave a huge wink. "Don't blow it."

"Don't push it."

"Dean, you ready to go?" Sam walked towards them and beamed at the small visitor, "Lilo, how're you!"

"Hulk!" Lilo beamed at Sam, and hugged, coming up somewhere around his knees, "Catch you guys later! You'll visit right?"

"Yeah, course," Sam ruffled her hair. "Dean?"

"Jerk, I was born ready," Dean informed his brother, he gave Lilo a wave as he came round the front of his car, and stepped in. Sam gave Lilo one last pat on the head, and she let go of his legs. Sam got into the passenger side seat as Lilo bounced off down the pathway. "So, when are we getting our wing-ed ride?"

"Any moment now," Sam looked down at the phone in his hands, when a ruffle of wings filled the car. "Hey Cass?"

"Sorry, he's busy," A familiar-looking angel with medium-length dark hair folded his hands sheepishly in his lap. "Where would you like me to land?"

"Lebanon," Dean turned round in his seat to squint at the suit, he clicked a finger, "Inias right? Hey, you survived the fall, good going- woah where are-"

"Lebanon, Kansas!" Sam yelped, and Inias apologized repeatedly until they had been returned to the bunker.

Dean leant forward until his forehead rested against the steering wheel. He groaned long and low, "Jesus christ, where is Cass? Was he too busy with Heaven?"

"No, things have settled down. He," Inias looked pained, "He said," Inias paused, as though not sure what to make of what he would say next, "That he had to walk the dishes."

"Huh," Dean raised his eyes just over the steering wheel. "Seriously?"

Inias gave a regretful shrug, as though apologizing on behalf of his superior with the gesture, "If that will be all?"

"Later," Dean waved the angel off, and Inias vanished with a flutter, he glanced towards Sam, "What do you make of that? Cass is avoiding us."

"Badly," Sam gave a surprised scoff. "What did you do?"

"Me?" Dean scowled at Sam, "What makes you think this is my fault?"

"It's always your fault," Sam looked at Dean meaningfully.

"Bitch," Dean growled, and gave Sam a puzzled look. Irritated he turned to glare at Sam, "What?"

"I didn't say anything."

"Your face is talking shit," Dean snapped. "So, spit it out pintsize."

"Look, I don't know," Sam threw his hands up defensively, "Cass just  _inferred_ something, so I  _figure_ it's  _your_ fault."

"Inferred what?" Dean demanded.

"I don't know," Sam repeated firmly, and kicked the car door open.

"Mind baby!" Dean snapped, "And spill you overgrown-"

"I don't know," Sam said again as he pulled their bags from the car, the aloha shirt peeking out the top of the duffel. 

* * *

"Cass, got a few extra burgers on the grill, you free?" Dean flicked the stove off, "Well, if you are, one has your name on it, Amen."

* * *

"Sam says I pissed you off," Dean took a sip of his beer and leaned against the wall. "Or he  _inferred_ it - the bitch - so what's up, Castiel of the Lord, haven't seen you in ages, talk to me buddy," Dean coughed, "Amen and you know the rest."

* * *

"Know anything that could turn a man to jelly - not like goop and blood - proper, hand to heart jelly, amen, let me know."

* * *

"So, Cass," Dean hooked his hands together, and leaned back on his bed. He looked vaguely towards the ceiling, and yeah, he sort of figured Heaven was on a separate plane, rather than Laputa, Castle in the Sky, but it was sort of hard to kick the stereotype, "How about you give me the four-one-one on your little hissy fit, and we can talk like, you know, civilized folk, yeah," Dean tapped his thumbs against his clasped hands, "Amen."

* * *

"You know," Dean twisted the knife through the remains of the unicorn with a frown, "I have done a lot of shit in my line of work - gutting a unicorn is definitely a low point," He raised his eyes to meet Castiel's, "You know Harry Potter says I'm going to live a cursed life for killing this thing."

"That is a gross exaggeration," Castiel wiped the silvery blood off his hands and onto his trenchcoat, "Although the blood is corrosive as you know."

"Yeah, yeah," Dean winced, eying the splatters of blood on his hands. "Lend me some mojo?" Castiel brushed his fingertips across Dean's forehead, "Damn shame about twilight sparkle here."

"The creature could not be stopped, or reasoned with," Castiel said lightly, "It was operating on naïve instinct."

"Yeah, purifying people of all their stomach microbes, grisly way to go," Dean shook his head, and tapped the unicorn's side with his foot. "Damn shame though, what'll I tell Sam - yeah, so I wasted Amalthea," Dean looked at Castiel again, "Long time no see though," He bit his lip, chewing it for a moment, "Not sure what I fucking did, but Sam seemed to think I'd fucked up so, if I buy you an apology beer, start hanging out with us again, yeah? Ohana and all."

"Family," Castiel nodded.

"Means nobody gets left behind or forgotten," Dean reminded the angel, "Speaking of, your family...?" 

"Are well, if temperamental."

"So you took the gig huh?" Dean frowned for a moment. "So, we good?"

"I believe I am pending an apology beverage," Castiel commented, and Dean laughed under his breath.

"Yeah, true that, but," He looked the angel up and down, "Are-"

"You've done nothing," Castiel waved a hand airily and the unicorn's corpse was gone, the blood cleaned off Dean and Castiel's clothing. Castiel rested his hand on Dean's upperarm, and they were back at the impala. Which was now parked - and looking freshly waxed too - outside a bar. Just the type Dean was partial too after a hunt; cheap enough, out of the way, low-key, a few patrons who were probably looking for something without strings. It was like Castiel had run a search for exactly the place Dean would have gone - four years ago. 

* * *

There they were then, Castiel nursing a beer like he was savouring Dean's unnecessary apology, with no forthcoming explanations on why he'd been giving Dean the silent treatment and Dean leaning back in his chair, giving Castiel a look that could probably put a hawk to shame. There was a demand for some explanation - just any would do - just waiting there in his mouth, like water coughed up from his lungs. By now the bar was getting slow, the crowd thinning out, and Castiel was still pondering his way through the first beer, "What, you have to go back to Asgard after one drink?" Dean snapped as Castiel took another sip.

"Not my division," Castiel stated without pausing, "Although I believe we are returning the nine realms to the Pagans given the situation with Loki."

Dean raised his eyebrows: of all the unexpected replies.

"So is that a yes, you gotta bounce after just one drink or you'll be what, flying under the influence."

"I'm an angel," Castiel answered, picking the drink up for yet another, slow, focused sip, "I simply do not feel like drinking."

"You look like I just spat in your gracified cereal, what's with you?"

Castiel set the beer down, and cast around for a moment, finally he turned back and indicated a brunette standing at the bar, "She thinks you're attractive and would like you to come over," He paused for a moment. "Or me, but I assure you-"

"Cass," Dean frowned, "What the hell?" He shook his head, "I'm catching up with you," He looked the angel square in the eyes, bright blue and round and flecked with steely grey. Castiel quickly jerked his head away, entire body tilting back from Dean's, "What's up with you?"

"You've done nothing," Castiel insisted towards a spot over Dean's head, and Dean bobbed, trying to get back in Castiel's line of sight. Trying to get Castiel's eyes to focus on him.

"Okay, I've definitely done something," Dean frowned, mouth setting into a displeased line, "Is this me fucking off to talk to Pele without you, because you were out of it, and I handled it fine, I'm-"

"Of all the arrogant-" Castiel was glaring at Dean, and that was so not how Dean wanted to get back in Castiel's range of vision. The angel clamped his mouth shut again, and fixed his eyes on his beer. Stroking the sides of the beer absently, Castiel looked like someone had run over his dog, and then personally offended him. 

"Talk to me," Dean pressed, leaning across the table towards Castiel. The angel made no movement, and only half-grunted in acknowledgement when Dean repeated his request. "Jesus, Cas," He shook his head, dropping it slightly in exasperation.

"I should go," Castiel said slowly, and Dean looked up, opening his mouth to object. Quickly he grabbed out, latching onto Castiel's arm and pinning it down hard.

"Don't, really," Dean swallowed, "Don't go."

"I can't stay," Castiel pried Dean's fingers off his arm, as gently as possible. 

"Can't, or won't?" Dean snarled, "Just tell me this. Tell me why the hell you won't even talk to me about it?"

"About what?" Castiel answered tonelessly.

"Oh don't you give me that crap," Dean growled. "Tell me why you're avoiding me."

"I'm not avoi-"

"Bullshit!" Dean yelled, ignoring the startled look from the few people left in the bar, "What in the hell did I do to you?!"

"Make up and fuck already," snapped someone from the bar, and Dean glared towards them, face burning.

"Fuck off," He snapped, and got to his feet, dragging Castiel with him towards the exit. There was a shrill wolf-whistle, and Dean levelled his gaze with his shoes. "Come on Cass, screw this lot."

* * *

"Fuck it's cold," Dean rubbed his fingers together, as he staggered out from the bar. He could still hear Mr Wolf-Whistle, laughing at them, and was tempted to go back in and knuckle-dust the jerk until he was pulp. "Eh, not worth it," He muttered to himself, and eyed Castiel, "You're not winging off on me?" Dean was honestly surprised. Stating he should go, usually preceded Castiel getting the hell out of there; Dean could have been clinging to Castiel's arm, and he'd be more likely to lose his hand, then actually pin Castiel down.

"No," Castiel agreed quietly. The angel went very still, gazing impassively down at the impala. Dean scuffed his feet, and stuffed his hands into his pockets, watching Castiel sadly from the side. He set one hand on the roof of the car, and felt the cold metal all but bite into his fingers. He dug in, and let the cold seep into his palm.

"Yeah?" He coughed out, half-swallowing the words. For once the angel didn't look like he was ignoring the subject, but instead like he was circling the edges of it. Prodding and revisiting how to broach it. The look in Castiel's eyes didn't resemble denial; Dean could spot it a mile off, label it and dissect it. No this looked uncommonly like an awkward, and heavy conversation was just waiting to come up.

"It's not your fault - this is mine."

It was as cryptic as Dean honestly expected from Castiel, "What do you mean?" Dean pulled his hand away from the car roof. When the angel held quiet and unnaturally still again, Dean swallowed, "Hey, you might have your own personal heavenly heater, but the human is a bit cold - cool if we, you know, sit in the car."

Castiel looked back up at Dean, considering. After a moment, he pulled the car door open and sat inside. He was tucked off to the side, curling towards the shut door. Dean swarmed into the space left behind, leaning over the gearbox, entire body canting towards Castiel. He studied the groove of Castiel's throat, the blue eyes, and blinking lashes, the cautious way the angel licked his lips. "No judgment zone?" Dean offered helpfully.

"I'm angry," Castiel slumped back in the chair, gaze flicking defeatedly at the roof of the car. He dropped his head back down, and glanced at Dean for a moment, and then once again was off staring out the passenger side window, "I'm just so angry that the bind simply vanished, after the ritual, which was difficult, very-"

"Oh boy," Dean leaned back in his seat, and Castiel fell shut, mouth closing like a steel trap, "Oh no-" Dean whirled back to Castiel, hands reaching out for a second, before pulling back, "No, I'm not- Lilo was actually part of Pele and I asked her to, undo... the thing, you can."

"Why did she bind us?" Castiel was looking back at Dean, head tilted to the side, eyebrows furrowed.

"Oh, just," Dean swallowed, "Pagan shits and giggles - she was very apologetic."

"Mhm," Castiel nodded. "Alright."

"No, you were talking," Dean mumbled.

"It is not of import," Castiel gazed off back towards the window, and then truthfully, if directed - still - towards the window, "I had a good evening with you, Dean."

It sounded far too similar to a goodbye for Dean's liking, so he leaned back across the gearbox, resting a hand to Castiel's shoulder, "No, what's- you're angry, alright Cass, what are you angry about?" Dean pressed. There was an awful, horrible moment where Dean thought Castiel wasn't going to be answering, but haltingly the angel cleared his throat.

"The ritual asked a lot of you personally, I am angry that it was not - in fact - a true ritual, and did not work, considering what I asked of you," Castiel paused. "Attempted to force, at that."

"Oh," Dean blinked. "Well, it's just, look I get it, you just wanted to get it over with, I get that," Castiel shrank in his spot, and Dean froze, retracting his hand, "Shit, what did I say?" The beginnings of another ugly silence, "Cass?" The silence waxed, "Cass, what did I say?"

Voice small, and swallowed up in the ocean of the air, Castiel mumbled out a spit of consonants and spray of vowels.

"Cass?"

Castiel seemed to be trying to absorb into and become one with the back of his seat, and was staring so thoroughly at the door handle, Dean wondered if he'd actually do a runner. Instead he gave another mumble, "Cass?"

"I have regard for you."

Dean blinked, and waited, but apparently that was everything Castiel intended to say on the matter, instead shutting his eyes in defeat. Dean cleared his throat, "Yeah, me too bud-" Castiel's eyes snapped open, looking at Dean with a frankly suspicious face. Dean worked his jaw, swallowing, "-Oh." Dean coughed into the back of his arm, "Huh."

"It is," Castiel's voice was somewhere between angry and absolutely, completely ashamed, "Difficult to be," Definitely leaning towards ashamed, "Rejected in quite so cavalier a-"

"Woah, woah, woah, who said anything about," Dean goggled at Castiel, "About rejection?" Dean ducked his head, laughing through his nose, "Fuck, Cass, I had a gay epiphany for you, and you-" Dean twisted to look back at Castiel. "Fucking hell."

He grabbed Castiel by the lapels of his trenchcoat, and pulled him forward, but mostly he surged as far across the gearbox as he could, and proceeded to kiss Castiel. It was rough, absolutely uneven, and when Dean drew back for a moment, he swept his gaze sharply over Castiel's face. Took in Castiel's wide eyes, the slightly agape expression, open and exposed. Downright Catatonic. Dean swallowed, hard, like he was attempting to inhale a rock, "Uh, cool, so," Dean's mind went from zero to sixty, and it's primary concern was that the word regard did not necessarily mean-

Castiel kissed back, eagerly, the swell of a wave, hands jutting upwards to clutch into Dean's shirt. Gripping just a hint too tight, and Dean gave a pleased groan as he felt Castiel licking into his mouth, running his tongue in an inexperienced - but eager - swipe along the inside of Dean's lower lip. Dean pushed forward, half clambering over the gearbox into the passenger seat. He braced the heel of his hand against the door, as he pressed more weight down on Castiel - who to give him credit was clawing at Dean's clothes and any exposed skin (the neck, the collarbone, edge of hip) like he was trying to claw inside Dean's veins and- Dean's hand slipped, skidding along the door. He felt the gear shift against his gut, and rolled automatically away, Castiel making a noise like a drenched cat in the resultant disaster.

"Shit!"

* * *

"So, if I-"

"No, just," There was a scuffing noise, the click of the door latch as it was locked, "Let me, hey."

A scratching noise, "Where are the fucking lights?" and a sudden thump. A moment passed, "Alright, no lights," came the hazy reconsideration, and another thump sounded.

Dean was trying to angle Castiel backwards towards the bed, but he had only the vaguest idea of where it actually was, and was trying to toe his shoes off, and peel his socks off, all without once letting go of Castiel's hips, or maybe not trying to breathe the angel inside out. Castiel wasn't helping; having the bright idea of trying to get most of his clothes off, but not really having the chewing gum and walking shindig down. There was a yipe as they both went down, Castiel luckily taking Dean's weight with the ease an angel would.

"Okay, slowing down," Dean muttered to himself, and hitching back to his feet. As Castiel got back up, he hooked his fingers on Castiel's belt, and unclipped it, tossing it off to the side. He flicked Castiel's button undone after a few tries, hindered by Castiel trying to pull Dean's shirt off even though his hands were clearly quite busy. Dean pulled away to peel the shirt off, and by then Castiel was shimmying out of the dress pants. Pressing his hands to Castiel's hips, he rotated Castiel towards the bed - which Dean had definitely seen as his eyes adjusted - and pushed them towards it.

"This is not slowing down," Castiel decided, and Dean shoved the angel onto the bed with a half-laugh, and looked down as Castiel twisted, sitting up to glare at Dean. 

"Okay, take five then," Dean stepped off to the side, kicking out of his jeans, and fussing with the lamp. It flicked on, flooding the room with a dull, honey light that flickered for a moment. Which was when Dean drank Castiel in - and it really did not go as planned. He swallowed, eyes running over the down-to-boxer-briefs maleness of Castiel, and he ran a hand clumsily through his hair. Meanwhile, Castiel was beginning to go from nervous to full-fledged panicking at Dean's sudden quiet. "Shit, okay," Dean was no coward, and hadn't watched gay porn for weeks to get nervous, thought-I-was-heterosexual dick. He ran his other hand through his hair, leaving both hands dug in, before dropping them to his sides at the look of definitely terror in Castiel's face. "Nah, I got you," Dean's voice gave a half-shake, and apparently the angel caught on fast; already backing across the bed.

Bit like riding a horse apparently - Dean gave a nervous giggle at the word ride, entirely apt - you go to nerves, and they go to pieces.

Carefully, Dean settled onto the bed and reached out a hand to pat Castiel on the shoulder. Let him know he was there, keep things calm, "Uh, yeah, it's good," Dean lifted his chin and tried to look supremely confident, entirely well-versed in the art of homosexual sex. Tried to look less like he'd had a few fantasies and had really been chewing through his sexuality, whilst trying to earn back talking privileges with the guy/being who triggered the entire soulsearch of his sexual orientation in the first place.

It wasn't like Dean hadn't done stuff with guys, it just, wasn't a lot. Not to mention the other cowboy - and again with that riding thing - had actually known what they were doing. Castiel was, well. Castiel was leaning into Dean's touch, still looking remarkably nervous, but there was something in his eyes. An eagerness to please, and Dean's performance anxiety was back.

"Shit, we were doing well before," Dean frowned, feeling a hot blush crawl all over his face and down his chest, "Okay, slow?" He looked at Castiel for confirmation, and the angel gave a terse nod, gaze steeling like he was preparing for battle, "Okay," Dean tried to think about how this went down when he was seventeen, and grinding a lithe man with unruly hair, and all that really came to mind was the sticky, liquid understanding that men weren't unattractive. It wasn't much, but Dean looked down at Castiel, trying to be objective.

He had nice hips, and Dean pressed a hand against one of Castiel's hip bones, rubbing it under his palm. A nice neck too, Dean tucked in towards Castiel, running his teeth cautiously along Castiel's neck. Felt a pulse under his tongue. There, up close, and feeling a little more sober from his minor panic attack, he could smell Castiel again. Inhuman, atmospheric, and Dean pressed against Castiel, hard. Sucked on his neck, licked and bit his way to Castiel's collarbone, and ended up with a face full of elbow.

"Sorry," Castiel pulled his arm back, and Dean rolled them over, taking it in stride.

"No biggie," He licked down Castiel's chest, pausing slightly. No boobs. He soldiered on anyway, licking lightly at Castiel's nipples, and gave them a roll in his teeth when Castiel's body arched like a bow under him. The bow snapped, and Castiel squirmed away from him. "Oops, sorry."

"It's alright," Castiel responded in a pant, "Too sensitive."

"Dully noted," Dean murmured, trying to get back in the groove again. Okay, what about gay porn - that had to have some pointers. Dean knew heterosexual videos were anything but realistic; but they were targeted at men, so of course they'd fuck up. Dean didn't even like that sort of porn, liked it when the people involved enjoyed themselves. Gay porn though, probably more realistic, like clearly the instant lubing and behind the scenes preparation was probably not realistic. Especially given- "Who goes where?" Dean blurted out.

"What?" Castiel stared at Dean, who had sat back on his heels by then.

"I-" Dean gazed down at Castiel, and then settled back over them, "Doesn't matter," Dean decided he'd follow Castiel's lead there, although he was really, and really hoping Castiel stayed on the bottom. As in, Dean wasn't going to deal with being new to both taking it up the ass and the added penis in the equation. Which Dean had forgotten about, but now it was on his mind, he was looking down between their bodies at Castiel's dick - and yeah, hard. Quite frankly, Dean had had a cock in his mouth before, and quite frankly it was hard - well, obviously - but Dean would be lying if he said he was good at it.

Still, wasn't like Castiel had much to work off and Dean was quickly losing nerve. Oral sex sounded entirely, entirely easier than trying to jump in the deep end at any rate, so Dean ducked his head down, and went straight for Castiel's gorgeous hip bones. Licking into the hollows, Dean's confidence had an abrupt up-turn at Castiel's half-moan; it was almost funny, Dean had pegged Castiel as a quiet-type, and there he was shaking, and moaning as Dean mouthed at him through his underwear.

On the plus-side, Dean was definitely hard again - Castiel smelt like cotton, and air, the faint tang of salt and deep clarity after a wildfire - and every moan was like a shot to Dean's nerves, making them fire off and spasm. He gripped Castiel's underwear and pulled it off, marvelling as Castiel twisted and failed to help by lifting his hips even once. Dean ended up having to leave Castiel's boxer-briefs hooked somewhere on one of the angel's leg, and returned his attention to- definitely a dick. He almost recoiled - just for a moment - but found himself mouthing, and licking at Castiel's head.

He ducked down, hitching one of Castiel's legs up, and licking along the perineum, because hey it was what he liked - and Castiel practically gave a shout, voice curling low into Dean's chest and settling in his bones. Dean paused, and then, in for a penny, in for a pound, and he curled over to take Castiel's dick into his mouth. The first thing he noticed was that it was just as tricky as he remembered, and he ended up half-bumping his teeth before giving up on the semi-deep throat thing. The second thing he noticed was that it was difficult to focus with a dick in your mouth; his attention wandered to just about everything, like his baby brother, and his dad, how many silver bullets he had left, and the gooey leftovers of shapeshifters, not to mention he'd killed a unicorn today, and now he was sucking a guy off, and good lord what if Castiel came in his mouth. He wasn't sure if he could handle spit or swallow.

Dean pulled away with a pant, and leant his head against Castiel's stomach, "Sorry," He mumbled. Castiel rubbed the pads of his fingers at Dean's scalp, catching at his breath.

* * *

Whatever Dean was apologizing for, Castiel found the mere fact of it ridiculous. He was shaking, out of breath, and keenly aware that, whilst he did not strictly need oxygen he very much wanted it, and more than that, simply could not have it. Dean was gasping against his stomach, leaving a drying patch of saliva on his hipbones, chin grazing along his dick, and with every shaky breath Castiel took in, the positions shifted slightly, sending an electrical short-circuit through Castiel's vessel. 

By now he was buried as far into the vessel as possible; it had been his - and his alone - since his first entanglement with Raphael, and over the course of falling, and then of course becoming human, Castiel had become familiar with the various nuts and bolts (as Dean put it) of his body. Including sex. Although perhaps familiar wasn't the word - out at the first inning sounded terribly appropriate. Still, Castiel settled into his vessel, determined to focus on every nerve ending, and the only result he seemed to get out of that was twisting and curling and bucking in the sheets. He wasn't of any help in this process.

Ruefully, Castiel shifted, sitting up and pulled Dean towards him; lips red, mouth hot, saliva smeared over his face and cheek. Castiel kissed him.

"D'ya wanna?" Dean mumbled into his mouth, and Castiel gave a nod, stretching back. There was a brief scuffle as they shifted, trying to figure out an ideal position, when there apparently was no such thing as an ideal position. "This'll do," Dean growled, settling down and blinking, "Lube," He yelped, pulling away. Castiel flung his hand out to scrabble for the drawer, and with the various strength and inertia of an angel, elbowed Dean in the face.

He went out, along with the sidelamp and an alarm clock.

* * *

"Dean?" Castiel checked him for another concussion, running his grace along Dean's nerve endings worriedly. Still, the ECG response was the same as always, albeit groggy.

"Got a headache tonight, buddy," Dean slurred, rolling in towards Castiel, eyes shut firmly. "Nother time," Dean groaned.

"I did knock you out," Castiel mumbled ruefully, "There will be another time?"

Dean flicked one eye open, rolling it to look at Castiel, "Yeah?"

"You did not seem pleased," Castiel clarified.

"Figurin' it out," Dean shut his eye again and stretched, tendons popping and muscles working. His head knocked up under Castiel's chin, "Morning, light," Dean waved a hand to illustrate his somewhat abstract point, "Google, love you though," He gave another wave of his hand, and dropped his head back to Castiel's chest with a dozy yawn. "Less elbows maybe."

"Maybe."


End file.
